


MiniKintober 2020

by Khadgarfield



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Angst, Daddy Kink, First Time, Fluff, Grinding, Hand Feeding, Humor, Kinktober, Knifeplay, Light Bondage, M/M, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Power Exchange, Praise Kink, Religion, Ritual Sex, Size Difference, Size Kink, Small Penis, Somnophilia, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism, Worship, references to infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:21:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27147955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khadgarfield/pseuds/Khadgarfield
Summary: A series of 7 Kinktober fics for the last week of the month.Genn Greymane/Anduin Wrynn - Daddy KinkEdwin Vancleef/Mathias Shaw - KnifeplayMathias Shaw/Flynn Fairwind/Tandred Proudmoore - UninterestedAnduin Wrynn/Mathias Shaw - Hand FeedingMathias Shaw/Flynn Fairwind - SomnophiliaGenn Greymane/Anduin Wrynn - Praise Kink/WorshipFlynn Fairwind/Mathias Shaw - Size KinkStories range in tone, length, and levels of irony. Tags will be updated as new chapters are added.
Relationships: Flynn Fairwind/Mathias Shaw, Flynn Fairwind/Tandred Proudmoore/Mathias Shaw, Genn Greymane/Anduin Wrynn, Mathias Shaw/Anduin Wrynn, Mathias Shaw/Edwin VanCleef
Comments: 34
Kudos: 73





	1. Genn/Anduin - Daddykink - Make sure you say ‘Our Father’ before you go sleep tonight

**Author's Note:**

> So I for realsies decided to do kinktober halfway through the month this year. 
> 
> big lol. 
> 
> Rather than suffer the burden of writing, proof reading and posting thirty consecutive pieces, I decided I would be "smart" and just do a week of uploads for the final week instead. 
> 
> Thank you Felrott and Limejelly for letting me use your prompt list, and also for just generally enabling this debauchery.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DAY ONE: Daddy kink  
> PAIRING: Genn Greymane/Anduin Wrynn  
> TAGS: Daddy kink, Oral Sex, Age Difference, References to Infidelity, First Time, LUNAR EFFECT TIME BOYZZZ

As prone as they were to argue when it came to certain issues, there were still plenty of things that Anduin Wrynn and Genn Greymane had in common.

Anduin knew their deepest similarity, though, looked like a difference at first glance. It was a thought that occurred to him late at night sometimes, or in the moments that he and Genn found themselves alone, but acknowledging it often felt like trying to pick up hot steel and it was frequently more convenient for him to just ignore the whole thing. Genn had never tried to bring it up either, though it must have occurred to him from time to time, and ultimately what did it matter to either of them, in the end? That Genn was a father to a dead son, and Anduin the child of a departed king.

Anduin leaned against the door frame, watching him in silence as he worked at his desk. He seemed invested in what he was doing, scratching his pen across the page in a loose scrawl - even though he must have realized someone was standing there he didn’t look up or acknowledge him at all. Anduin rarely visited Genn’s small chamber in Stormwind Keep, and as such he was unaccustomed to seeing the man unguarded. He was dressed simply in his shirt and breeches, his distinctive coat draped over an armchair in the corner, and the room in which he sat was lit only by candlelight and a small fire burning in the grate. Unlike in Anduin’s much larger, much more beautiful chambers, the windows in Genn’s room were small and niched. Coupled with the high stone walls and heavy drapes, Anduin got the impression that it was designed so its occupant couldn’t see the sky. This, Anduin supposed, was a convenient feature – the cycles of the blue lady did odd things to Genn. Something to do with the Worgen curse? Anduin remembered it was the full moon tonight. No wonder he was looking so disheveled.

“If you’ve brought the linen I asked for, you can leave it on the bed and go.”

Genn spoke without looking up, not yet recognizing that it was no servant visiting him at this late hour. Anduin wondered why he wasn’t able to smell it was him – he had just bathed that afternoon, and his hair was freshly washed. Even he could recognize the scent of himself. His soap emanated the gourmand fragrance of Honey and Mageroyal.

“Oh dear,” Anduin said gently. “My apologies. I knew I had forgotten something important.”

Genn leapt out of his chair at the sound of his voice, and slammed his pen down his pile of correspondence.

“Anduin!” He stumbled. “Light damn you child! You gave me a fright!”

“Light damn me?” Anduin laughed. “I think not. Try again.”

He padded into the room, pulling the door shut behind him, and dropped down to sit on the end of the small bed. Desk notwithstanding, it was the only spot to sit in the room. Genn simply stood and stared at him, as though he had just done something so bewildering that Genn had no frame through which to process it. In a way, perhaps he had.

“… What are you doing here?” Genn asked him eventually.

Anduin pulled his shoulders into a shrug.

He couldn’t sleep, was the long and short of it. Another night of lying in the moonlight staring at the ceiling, feeling completely and utterly alone. The sound of silence was poor company, leaving him with nothing but his own thoughts as he tossed and turned in bed. Eventually, the weight of it began to feel too great for him. He needed to walk and clear his head, and in his late-night wanderings he had sought Genn without even intending to.

He had been mildly surprised to find that he too, was alone.

“Where is Mia?” He asked, not answering the question he had been presented with.

“Mia stays by Olivia’s pond.” Came the answer. “She prefers to live among the Kaldorei.”

“Oh,” Anduin was surprised, but somehow not at the same time. Genn and Mia were fond of the Night Elves - Mia especially loved them like her own people. He did feel a little sorry to hear this, nonetheless. “That’s a shame. Don’t you miss her, not having her around?”

“Of course I do,” Genn told him shortly. “Very much.”

Anduin sighed, wondering what that felt like. To love someone enough to miss them when they were gone. Did that mean that Genn also did not have anyone to talk to late at night? How torturous. How... sympathetic.

“Does it not put quite a spanner in the conjugal works?” he wondered. Of course, the words had escaped him before he could stop himself – a passing, half-formed thought that he had _never_ intended to say out loud.

Genn looked at Anduin as though he had just slapped him.

“What?”

“Uh.” Anduin wasn’t really sure what to say. He did not know why such a stupid thing would come out of his mouth. Perhaps because it was late and his guard was down, or perhaps because he had forgotten he was talking to Genn and was no longer alone with his own thoughts.

“It was a joke,” He said eventually. A believable lie. Genn blinked at him, bewilderment still obvious on his face.

“Not a funny one,” The older man replied. “but since you asked – not at all. No more than having her live on the other side of the great sea.”

“Oh.”

Anduin felt mild surprise steal over him when he realized.

_It’s like that._

Fair enough. If Mia had been able to handle the man before him at her age, then Anduin would have been _very_ impressed by her fortitude. Unlike Mia, Genn was still fit and strong despite his age. It made sense that now she no longer took him into her bed. No doubt, though, he was also still… virile. That seemed like an unfortunate situation to be in, as well as a notable shame. He had always thought Genn was profoundly handsome, and surely there was no shortage of bodies willing to indulge him should he ask? At the thought of it, Anduin felt himself flush. He wondered if this was why Genn had always been concerned with his own reproductive state. Did he by chance envy Anduin, who could take a lover freely if he chose to do so?

Another thought, ejected from his lips without his consent.

“Ironic that you have been trying so hard to get me bedded lately, when it seems you can’t even manage it yourself.”

_Perhaps it is that accursed full moon that’s doing it._

Genn groaned in irritation and raked his hands through his hair. It fell into his face, rumpled for the first time in Anduin’s memory, and Anduin thought the action was curiously vulnerable. Just like the bareness of his scarred chest beneath the neckline of his shirt.

“I’ve already had my children,” He snapped, “In case you’ve forgotten.”

Of course. Anduin could never forget that.

“… I’m sorry.” He said after a drawn-out silence, in which he bit down on his tongue incase another stray sentence rose from the annals of his mind. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“How did you mean it then? Actually, don’t answer that I’m not interested.” Genn folded his arms across himself, as if they were a shield from any more of Anduin’s words. “What did you want? Did you come here just to torment me in the middle of the night?”

He said it like he was scolding a naughty child.

“Of course not Genn. What do you take me for? I came because I was lonely and I didn’t know where else to go.”

It hadn’t been his fault that the door to Genn’s chamber had been ajar. That the spiral staircase he had been climbing was so dark and so cold, and he had been beckoned by the dancing warmth of candlelight flickering inside. It _certainly_ wasn’t his fault that it was a full moon tonight, and Genn seemed just as agitated as he was. Elsewhere focused. Anduin wished he had just stayed in bed.

At this confession, though, Genn seemed to soften. His posture became less rigid and defensive, and his shoulders began to set back into a relaxed slope. He sighed.

“What am I going to do with you, my dear boy?”

What indeed.

The bedframe creaked as he too sat down, and sitting side by side Anduin was keenly aware of the disparity in their size. Genn was so much larger than he was, both across the shoulders, and in height. It wasn’t so noticeable, usually, because Anduin wore full armor and Genn stood at his back. Shoulder to shoulder, however, the difference was obvious.

“What _are_ you going to do with me?”

The two of them slipped into silence. The sound of the low burning fire was the only thing that disturbed the quiet. Despite having company, now, Anduin did not feel less lonesome – he wondered if it was because of Genn’s mood, or if it was just the inherent nature of this specific night. After a while, Genn spoke again. His voice was much softer. Weary and quiet.

“I’ve told you many times,” He began, “My concern is for the future of the Alliance and for your bloodline. You do understand this, right?”

“I understand.”

“I do it because I know I made a grave mistake. Not doing it the first time.”

“The first time?”

The name hung in the air between them. Unspoken.

Genn nodded, barely perceptibly.

“I often spend nights unable to sleep. I am haunted by the knowledge that he might have had his own child, his own _legacy,_ if I was as good a father to him as I am to… well.”

He censored himself, but Anduin already knew what he meant.

_As I am to you._

Anduin chewed on the inside of his cheek. His stomach felt odd. Not unpleasant. Not really entirely pleasant, either.

“I’m sure you were great,” He said carefully. “A wonderful… father.”

A knotty word. A word made of mountains of questions and answers, but not a single one of them matched. It filled him with feelings that didn’t really have borders, and he couldn’t have distingusihed them if he tried.

“Actually, Tess always said I was cold,” Genn informed him, glancing sideways with those familiar, pale grey eyes. “She may speak the truth.”

It was Anduin’s turn to nod.

“Yes perhaps,” He said. “But personally, I would disagree.”

Anduin turned away, looking into the fire to avoid Genn’s gaze. He could still feel it though, on his face, and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled knowing he had Genn’s undivided attention. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, but it was also not something he had in private often. Their conversation tonight was edging dangerously close to that realm of things the two of them never discussed.

Was this it then? Was this going to be _that_ conversation?

“Why? Because I rebuke you often? I would have thought that would make me seem colder.”

“No,” A small smile turned his lips. “Not that. I mean, I feel you are warm to me. Gentle. And I think you have it in you to be sensitive even if you like to pretend otherwise. Clearly, I can see you care for me. Even if I do find it… irritating at times.”

“You are too stubborn,” Genn scolded with a strange tenderness. One that made Anduin’s stomach flutter. “and you are prone to romantic ideals. I think you misjudge me.”

“I do not,” Anduin turned back to him, locking their eyes. “I love you very dearly, Genn. And I know my feelings are reciprocated. I cannot call you father because my father is dead, but I can call you any other number of things that are the same.”

Genn looked almost… uncomfortable.

“Things that are the same?”

“Yes.”

“And what word might have the same significance as ‘father’?”

Anduin shrugged.

“I don’t know. _Daddy_?”

He tried the word on his tongue, and found the sound of it infantile. Very strange. That wasn’t to say he didn’t like it; it was just an unusual thing to say. The concept had been nebulous and unnamed in his mind for so long, that such a simple word seemed too clumsy. He wasn’t convinced it embodied exactly what he needed it to mean. Genn though...

The older man inhaled shakily, something very strange moving behind his eyes. He closed them for a moment, blocking Anduin out, and with his eyes still closed he raised his hands to cradle the sides of the young king’s face. It was a sensual gesture, given with all the gentleness of a man cradling their beloved, and the warmth of his hands sent a jolt down Anduin’s spine.

“Child,” He breathed, “You will be the death of me.”

Anduin felt like his heart was stopping when Genn leaned closer, and brushed a kiss against his lips. The contact was so fleeting he could have imagined it, even while it happened, and when Genn moved away Anduin sucked in a breath - like he was trying to draw him back in again.

“Wait,” He whispered, moving his hands to grasp the front of Genn’s shirt. “Wait come back. Do it again?”

He needed another kiss. Just one more. To check whether or not he had liked it, or possibly if it had even really happened in the first place.

_A strange dream? Put there by the moonlight?_

Genn frowned, eyes cracking open to search his face for any sign of hesitation or discomfort.

“You would have me die then?”

“If you won’t give me another kiss, I might.”

“So I am doomed either way,” His thumb caressed to bow of Anduin’s lip. “Such a sweet death it is.”

He closed the gap again.

Anduin _did_ like it.

Suddenly, all those unfamiliar words, all those times they hadn’t talked about it, made perfect sense.

Genn’s hands didn’t linger on his face for long, sliding down his neck to his shoulders, and then his hips, and finally finding a home against the small of his back. Anduin melted into him as he deepened the kiss, letting his own arms curl around Genn’s neck, and his feet lifted from the floor so he could fall backwards against the mattress and be pushed up the length of the bed. He lay where Genn lay to sleep at night, his head on a pillow that smelled of wood resin and clean snow, and pulled the older man against him with his thighs.

Anduin, inexperienced and still only a young man, was completely at a loss for what to do now. Fortunately, Genn didn’t seem to mind, taming his teeth and tongue with finesse, pinning his body with his weight and the confidence of a lifetime. Anduin had forgotten that he had, at any stage that evening, felt lonely. The warmth between their bodies felt like the entire universe was here, and it contained them and them alone. 

Genn’s mouth shifted to the side of his neck, close to his ear. The skin there was delicate, and sensitive under the tickle of his moustache and beard.

“Call me that again,” He asked softly. Anduin had to rack his brain to remember.

_Call him what?_

And then it struck him.

“Daddy?” He asked, slightly breathless. Genn groaned softly, burying his face in the crook of Anduin’s neck and sucking softly on the silky, virginal skin there.

Beautiful. Spine melting. Anduin couldn’t help but moan in delight. Genn’s hands shifted again, dipping between their bodies to press between his thighs. His body already slotted perfectly between Anduin’s legs, but when he spread them wider and pulled them around his hips it was impossible for Anduin to feel anything but perfect desire. Rapture. Utter delight.

He could feel Genn was hard, his cock pressing near to his own but much bigger and much, much more formidable. The heat from it was tangible even through two pairs of pants. Deep inside himself, Anduin felt a craving for more contact. For skin on skin. The places between his legs ached hungrily, begging for something to fill him up, and the rub of Genn’s length against his core was delicious like sweet wine. It rendered him nearly dizzy, how good it felt.

“Daddy… You’re so big…”

His voice cracked a little, fingers curling into Genn’s shoulders. He rolled his hips invitingly and hoped Genn would take the hint.

_Put it inside me._

The body between his legs was trembling, the kisses against his neck and collarbone were growing animalistic. Anduin moaned aloud when the hands on his thighs moved up to his ass, squeezing and pulling him upwards so that Genn could rut against him harder. The tug of fabric rubbing against Anduin’s cock made his breath catch in his throat.

“Please,” The plea was so soft, loaded with desperate yearning. Anduin thought his voice sounded like it did when he was trying to refrain from shifting into Worgen form. Perhaps he was doing so now. “Let me fuck you?”

Anduin nodded, unable to form the word ‘yes’ even though he felt it with all his heart. He wondered, fleetingly, when was the last time Genn had lain with anyone else. A flash of envy struck through him. The idea that Genn had ever belonged to another, even his wife, made Anduin wince like he had been slapped.

The body between his legs slid downwards, and Anduin let him pull of his pants and open him up again. Let him bury his face in his core and seal his lips around Anduin’s aching cock.

It was unspeakably good. Anduin cried out in pleasure, fingers tying in his hair, as Genn sucked him and let his tongue caress the most delicate places of his body. The wetness of his lips, and the heat of his mouth, was so unlike the touch of his own hand. Anduin had never known his body could experience such ecstasy. Genn lapped at him ardently, like he was drinking his fill from a pool at his loins. Anduin let his thighs tighten around his head, inching closer and closer to climax with every rolling stroke of that tongue,

“I’m going to cum,” He gasped, body arching against the mattress. “Please don’t stop!”

When Genn pulled his mouth away, Anduin nearly started crying.

“ _Why?!”_ He gasped. Genn looked up at him from between his legs, his expression feverish with desire, and his cheeks dark with a flush of arousal. Anduin could see the moon in his eyes.

“Because I want you to finish on my cock,” he said, and his voice was so low and so carnal it made Anduin’s toes curl. “And if you don’t hate me tomorrow, then tomorrow I can please you like that instead.”

Anduin was too weak with lust to argue. He nodded.

“How do you want me, Daddy?” He asked.

“On your knees,” Genn moved back, kneeling up so he could begin to unlace his fly and release his length from the confines of his pants. “face in the pillow.”

He scrambled to do as ordered. Behind him, he could feel Genn move closer. His length brushed against the curve of Anduin’s ass, and he had a terrible thought.

_He’s not going to just put it straight in, is he?_

Of course not.

He felt the brush of wetted fingers against the place Genn would enter him, and then as he drew a deep breath, penetration. Slow and adoring. His body accommodated one finger easily. And then it accommodated two. By the time he had three inside, Anduin could feel himself tingling all over with the delight of it. Being stretched and of being explored by someone who loved him. Who would protect him. Who would guard his heart with the kind of loyalty rarely found outside of blood.

“Daddy,” He sighed. Genn made a choked noise.

It would seem Anduin had discovered a magic word.

When the fingers were gone, replaced by a thick, blunt cockhead, he thought his knees might just give way with how much he wanted to feel him split him open. The seconds Genn’s tip teased him apart were the most incredible seconds of his life. The only near match came only a few moments after, as Genn slid in deep enough that his hips were flush against Anduin’s ass, and every magnificent inch of his length was buried inside. 

“Oh, _Light,”_ Genn moaned, and the sound of his voice made Anduin shiver. A soft, breathy laugh escaped his chest before he could help it.

“Feels good?” He asked. He sounded like he might have just run twenty miles.

“So good,” a hand stroked over his behind, and up his back. “You feel so good.”

Genn rocked his hips, and the friction of him moving inside made Anduin weak. Whatever he was doing, either aiming on purpose or just benefiting from the natural curve of his length, Genn’s body was pressing against the place inside him that made his muscles coil. The slow, tentative pace of Genn fucking him soon gave way to regular, steady thrusts, and Anduin soon felt himself bouncing back onto his erection, meeting him half way, encouraging the frantic, rougher pace that was building the longer it went on.

“Say it again,” Genn panted, and Anduin moaned,

“Daddy! Fuck me harder Daddy, _please…”_

He reached downwards, stroking himself frantically in time with the motion of Genn’s hips. The weight and girth of the dick splitting him was unbelievable, and it only felt bigger and more powerful the more he edged closer to climax, and his muscles began to bear down.

“Oh _Anduin,_ fuck! Fuck! Cum on me...”

It was an order he could easily follow. An order he would follow every night for the rest of his life if he needed to. Again and again.

He was glad for the pillow as he met his climax – it muffled the noise that tore from him, as his body jerked and buckled, and release ravaged every muscle and nerve in his body. He could feel Genn’s cock twitching as he finished as well, flooding him with seed, and far away the sound of the older man sighing his name in worshipful awe. The orgasm seemed to go on forever, throbbing like a heartbeat through every part of him, and it did not stop when Genn pulled out and flipped him over. He only had a moment to be shocked before Genn was hitting his hand away and his face was between his legs again. his lips wrapped around his hard cock, sucking the last of his release out of him and pushing his fingers inside so his body had something to clench down on while he came.

Unbelievable. Unspeakable.

_So good._

Anduin’s chest heaved, and his body burned with over stimulation when the orgasm finally passed and Genn kept his mouth on him, pushing his legs even wider so he could elevate Anduin’s hips and explore the place he had just emptied himself with his tongue.

_He will lick it all out of me again if I don’t stop him._

Anduin whined and tried uselessly to push his head away.

“Genn, _stop_ its too much…”

He thought he might pass out soon, if he didn’t stop.

Genn pulled back finally, and panting like he had just been engaged in hand to hand combat, he wiped at his mouth with the heel of his palm. He looked wild. Savage even. Significantly more rumpled now than he did before. Between his legs, his dick was softening. Anduin could scarcely believe that had been… inside of him.

His heart did a funny thing inside his chest.

“I… I’m sorry,” Anduin said uselessly. “I just need a moment before I clean myself up.” Genn just looked at him, like he was dazed. The swollen silver body of the full moon was still glowing in the depths of his pupils.

“… okay.” 

Now he was starting to catch his breath again, Anduin struggled to prop himself upright. He still felt a little dizzy. He had never cum that hard in his life. He doubted he would ever cum that hard again. He felt a pang of remorse that it had all seemed to go so fast. Perhaps Genn would want to make this a regular occurrence?

_Oh my._

The weight of what they had just done struck him, like a killing blow to his chest. Already, he had registered that the experience felt like a dream. Like an accident. Yet he couldn’t deny it had been so... exhilarating. Magnetic. Unavoidable, even, considering how long they had circled around each other now. Genn was his dearest advisor. His confidant. One of his greatest allies and the man he had always considered akin to a second father.

_Daddy._

This was really, really fucked up….

“Genn,” He said slowly, feeling the colour rising in his face. Genn grunted, full-moon eyes regarding him through the half-darkness, mind either thinking a lot of the same things he was or reeling a million miles away. “That was fairly inappropriate of us.”

“… It was.”

Anduin sucked a deep breath, letting the air balloon in his lungs.

“Promise me we will do it again?”


	2. Edwin/Mathias - Knife Play - Lips like the point of a sharp knife, in the heart of a silent place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DAY TWO: Knife Play  
> PAIRING: Edwin/Mathias  
> TAGS: Knife Play, Edgeplay, Mild Bondage, Oral Sex

Edwin VanCleef had a deft mind, and deft fingers.

Whether building an arch or wielding a knife, his clever touch was always the best for the job. In stolen moments between the sheets, Edwin did both of these things. He slid the flat side of the blade over his mentor’s thigh, and made his back arch like the vaulted eaves of a linen cathedral, built only for two.

Mathias Shaw, body trembling, dared not make a sound. He did not want to shatter the spell of silence that had fallen between them, or disturb the peace of a cool grey dawn. He _really_ didn’t want to wake his grandmother, who was still sleeping soundly in the room next door.

Edwin skated the dagger lightly over Mathias hip, shaving against the trail of hairs that mapped the route from between his legs to his belly. The feeling of the metal on his skin made Mathias shiver, and he had to bite down hard on the inside of his cheek to resist the instinct to squirm. Twenty years of life, painstakingly programmed to cut, slash, and strike, he knew in the cells that made up his whole that at any moment Edwin could sink it into him like a stake into the earth, and gut him like he exhumed ancient foundations from a dig site.

The knowledge of how easy it would be brought a cold sweat to the Mathias’ brow. His hair clung to his face in copper tendrils, and as Edwin moved up his body his raven hair tickled against the hollow at the bottom of Mathias' throat. The dagger shifted, from his stomach and over his sternum, before the point came to rest at the spot just beneath his chin.

 _Do you trust me?_ Edwin mouthed, dark eyes glittering with wickedness and mirth. Mathias held his breath, and swallowed – _almost_ enough to brush skin against the blade and split it open, but not quite.

 _Yes_ , he tried to convey with his eyes. Edwin grinned and pressed their noses together. Now the two of them lay chest to chest, and the dagger remained near his neck as his lover moved to nibble on his ear, rolling warm waves of pleasure down his back and pooling it deep between his thighs. With his hands bound above his head, Mathias couldn’t have pushed him away if he wanted to. He tried to lift his chin, away from the blade, and his hips stuttered up against Edwin’s instead. The brush of a clothed erection against his was electrifying. Mathias shut his eyes to block out everything except that contact, his jaw set hard to stop the low moan that pressed against the back of his teeth.

He couldn’t help but gasp, though, when the dagger moved at lightning speed from under his jaw to his wrists. Edwin pushed their mouths together as he cut Mathias free - no longer bound to the rickety bedframe he felt a surge of relief - and their bodies twisted around one another like creeping plants coiled around columns made of stone. The handle of the weapon was pressed into Mathias hand, he seized it as though Edwin might change his mind if he hesitated, and toppled Edwin onto his back so he could straddle him like a king taking seat upon his throne. 

Oh, such power. Edwin’s body was a fine dominion to rule. Mathias could play king inside the sanctum of his own head, if only for a little while, and he thought with his heart pounding inside his chest that he was a king who was going to raze the city beneath him to the ground.

He moved the tip of the dagger to the side of Edwin’s face, and the subtle consequence of so many decades of training was that he held the blade without so much as a quiver in his palm. Edwin had delicate features. A small, wry mouth. Mathias thought he was a plain kind of man, except for his eyes, which fixed on him wide and alight with desire. The ghost of an unspoken challenge began to stir in their depths. Mathias’s stomach clenched.

With the hand not holding the weapon, he brought a finger up to his lips.

 _Your turn. Don’t make a sound_.

Edwin’s eyes shuttered, acknowledging his demand. His chest was rising and falling rapidly with his breathing, and millimeters from the bottom of his blade Mathias could see a faint purple line in his throat. A jugular vein. Mathias had already slit more of them than he had fingers on his hands. He realized that without even intending it the knife was gravitating towards this font of hot blood, magnetic humanity beckoning the kiss of silver and steel. The man beneath him was still vibrant and young – his heart beat strongly, and his body was honed by the endless process of carving, hauling, generating the metropolis the pair of them called home. Life throbbed in him with incomprehensible urgency, desperate to surge forward into history and bloom, and as Mathias rocked their hips together, there was a glint of something reckless in Edwin’s smile. A part of him that dared Mathias to pull the knife against his skin, to confirm that Edwin really _was_ indestructible.

All great architects live forever, immortalized in mortar and stone.

Mathias bit his lip, retracting the knife just an inch, and shuffled a little further down the legs between his own. The topography of Edwin’s body was familiar – the ever-shifting lattice of scrapes and bruises on his arms, the rolling horizon of his muscles under his skin, even the shallow gullies of his hips, that steered Mathias further and further down. The front of his smallclothes was tented by his erection – a humble construction in his portfolio, yet the one Mathias liked the most of all of them because it was for him and for him alone.

He hovered the knife over Edwin’s stomach, glancing the edge over his navel before continuing lower, and as he approached the band of his underwear he could feel the muscles in Edwin’s legs tense just a little. Mathias pulled the blade under his waistband, and let it slice through the cotton effortlessly. Edwin sucked a sharp, giddy breath into his lungs. When cold steel ghosted his bared length, Mathias could hear him choking back a moan.

 _Dangerous,_ he thought to himself, mentally mapping the pulmonary canals that flowed between his meat and skin and bones. _There are more arteries here. More veins. Parts of him that not even I can know._

Mathias inhaled slowly, calmly, even though his pulse was echoing in his skull, and still holding the knife close to the side of Edwin’s shaft he bowed his head down to take him into his mouth. Even though Edwin’s fingers were curling in the tousled red hair on his head, and his own erection was straining between his legs, Mathias kept his knife unwavering. His spare hand held the base of Edwin’s cock, and as he sunk down it struck him again, leaving him dizzy. How easy would it be to just slaughter him, if he wanted to? Slice him open, a private massacre, and no one would know and no one would hear a sound.

The thought was intoxicating. Feverish. Deadly. Mathias swallowed him, barely even hearing Edwin’s breath catch, because he was too busy focusing the tension between the weapon and his willpower. Unlike with all those nameless murders, he knew that for him there would be completely new reality for waiting on the other side. He hadn’t known the others, after all. Hadn’t seen them cry, or laugh, or grow. How terrible it was, to be tempted by the power of creating a new world, and destroying an old one. Did Edwin feel like this too, when he was pulling a building into form?

 _Life without Edwin._ The thought passed over him. _Was that really a life at all?_

Mathias pulled himself back, laving his tongue messily around Edwin’s cockhead, savoring the warmth of his precum trickling over the back of his hand. Edwin sounded like he was struggling to keep his voice down. Mathias felt his own length twitch needily, a warm knot of pleasure spreading through his core as Edwin tugged his hair. For a split second, the very point of the dagger twitched, and Mathias groaned around the dick in his mouth.

_Control._

What use was he if he couldn’t keep control? If he let the hungering in him burn with reckless abandon, and consume him whole? Edwin deserved better than that, he knew, even as he tightened his grip on the knife and forced himself to swallow him so deeply that tears sprung up in the corners of his eyes. The hands on the back of his head were pressing in desperation, and if not for the knife Mathias knew he would be fucking upwards into him, and Mathias already was choking. He couldn’t breathe. Would the dagger falter?

He jerked his face off Edwin’s cock, and had to swallow down a fit of coughing. His resolve waivered before his hand did, and in anticipation of his inevitable fall he flung out his knife wielding hand. Edwin winced visibly, and despite the order for silence a sound came out of him.

_“No!”_

Mathias slammed the point of the thing down into the mattress. It split linen and down and clean, dry straw. His head felt like it was swimming as he wrapped his lips around that cock again, and with a choked sound Edwin spilled into his mouth and over his tongue. Mathias drunk him hungrily, hands gripping his hips, not even caring that the sound of his panting might wake his grandmother if she hadn’t already been roused by his needy moan.

He was tremoring, his hands weak, when Edwin twisted beneath him and pushed him away. His eyes sought Mathias’ again, but now instead of a challenge there was a flush of fear on his face. Fear and absolute enthrallment.

“You’re incredible,” He breathed shakily, “I adore you, Mathias Shaw.”

Mathias knew he adored him too, in the ardent way that fire tears through buildings and pathways, and flames lick at magnificent edifices of clay and stone.

He adored him in a way that would leave only ruins behind them.


	3. Flynn/Mathias/Tandred - Uninterested - I don't see you offering to do all this paperwork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DAY THREE: Uninterested  
> PAIRING: Flynn/Mathias/Tandred  
> TAGS: Threesome, Voyeurism, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Frottage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hated writing this story so much lmaoooo threesomes are hard and feel ridiculous to write but I have conquered and here we are.  
> four days remain.

It was a terrible weekend for Flynn to have a guest.

Mathias had said as much, when Flynn had suggested it, reminding him that things were very _busy_ for him right now. With High Exarch Turalyon acting as regent, Genn Greymane stalking the keep in the kind of mood that made the guards keen to take annual leave, and a backlog of work from his… unfortunate absence recently, Mathias was up to his ears in things to do. Plus, he had hoped that being back home would mean more time spent with just him and Flynn. Not him and Flynn and whoever the fuck else he wanted to invite over for a few drinks and a ‘roll in the hay’.

Mathias had already told him outright he wouldn’t be participating in any of that. He didn’t really care about how pirates liked to orchestrate their sexual encounters, and he didn’t mind at all if Flynn wanted to be out having rendezvous in dark alleyways at night, but Mathias liked to think of himself as a monogamous kind of fellow. Until very recently, he had felt a strong preference for his own company above all else, and he was still coming to terms with the fact that if he wanted to have an orgasm these days he didn’t actually have to do it himself.

Of course, all of this had been before Mathias had found out _who_ Flynn had hoped to bed on the night of the visitation. Once he had discovered it was none other than _Tandred Proudmoore_ , he had been even more convinced he wasn’t going to do that.

No way.

If he did, he wasn’t sure he would be able to look Jaina in the eye ever again.

“How do you know Tandred Proudmoore?” He had asked, astonishment obvious in his tone of voice. “I didn’t know you knew anyone important.”

“Wow, that’s rude.” Flynn had almost been offended. “I know lots of important people Mat. And just as a rule? If they’ve been on a boat in the last ten years I’ve probably fucked them.”

“Oh really?” Mathias had asked. “Does that include Harlan Sweete?”

Flynn had fallen suspiciously silent. Mathias hoped that Harlan hadn’t had anything venereal. Neither or them brought it up again until two weeks later, when Mathias had been on his way out of the apartment that morning and Flynn had mentioned it off-hand when he was ushering him out the door.

“Tandred is over tonight, remember. So bring home enough food for the three of us to eat.”

“Wait, what?”

The disagreement that had followed had made Mathias late for work, and ultimately that had only added to the amount of paperwork he needed to bring home with him when he left SI:7 Headquarters later that day. He returned home slightly later than he would have usually, with two more loaves of bread and an extra bottle of rum in hand.

“Good evening, Love!”

Flynn was all smiles, naturally. The Cur. 

Tandred Proudmoore, the youngest brother of Archmage and Lord Admiral Jaina Proudmoore, did not rise to meet him as he shuffled in the door, and Mathias felt himself bristle when he noticed that he was sitting in Mathias’ chair. It was his favourite, near the fireplace, and he hoped Tandred didn’t compress the springs too much under his weight

“Good evening Flynn. Captain Proudmoore.”

“Nice to see you again, Spymaster.” Tandred smiled.

“Please, this is my house not my office. You can call me Mathias.”

“Call him Mat,” Flynn relieved him of the bread and alcohol, and moved to set it on the kitchen counter. Mathias glared at him as hard as he could manage, which was very hard indeed.

“Don’t call me that.”

Tandred’s eyes, alert and blue like starmoss flowers, darted between them. Mathias could tell that he already knew everything he needed to know. Flynn had probably told him already, that Mathias wasn’t interested in a _ménage á trois_ , but now Mathias was actually getting an eyeful of the man up close he almost felt a little bit sad about it. He was a fine looking fellow, closer to his own age than to Flynn’s, with blond hair and a freckled face and that thick, muscular body type that Mathias adored. Men just didn’t look that good in Stormwind.

Well, one did, he supposed.

Mathias glanced at Flynn, who was already breaking the bread and preparing some bowls for them to eat from. He was moving with a bounce in his step, and he wore his hair loose on his shoulders, which was something he had done on purpose probably because he knew Mathias liked it. It was one of his better attempts at ingratiating himself again.

“Please yourself,” He said casually, “do you want me to make you a hot drink?”

Mathias told him he did. He began unbuckling his cuirass and removing his uniform, feeling Tandred’s eyes on his back, and Mathias wondered fleetingly how much _else_ Flynn had told him. Did Flynn talk about what it was like to bed him? About the things he did and didn’t like between the sheets? Did he tell Tandred about the way Mathias moaned when Flynn slapped him, or swallowed down his seed like it was the sweetest wine, and did he compliment Mathias behind his back? Suggest that Tandred might give his ass a squeeze when he passed by?

The thought made his cheeks burn pink. He forced himself not to think about that.

“Will you be joining us for drinks, Mathias?”

Tandred spoke evenly, in the familiar and learned accent of a noble even after so many years at sea. His voice was affable, but Mathias wondered if he heard a twist of wry amusement in his tone. He shook his head and bent over to unlace his boots.

“No, I have work to do.”

“You bring work home often?”

“Not often. But things have been busy lately and I still have a lot to catch up on.”

He erected himself, kicked off his boots, and shuffled across the apartment to his desk in the corner. For two people, the open plan space was plentiful and comfortable, but with a third body it all seemed very cramped. He was a little awkward, to be perfectly honest. Not entirely sure how to compose himself in his own home. God help him when it came time to go to bed – they only had enough mattress for him and Flynn at the best of times.

Oh Light, he hadn’t thought of that. Did Tandred expect to sleep with them tonight? He must. Perhaps Mathias could just take a blanket and a pillow and make himself comfortable in the bathtub. Sleeping on one of the armchairs seemed like it would be hell for his back. At least in the tub he would be able to lie down…

Mathias plonked into the seat behind his desk, and drew out the paperwork from his satchel. He could hear Flynn shuffling around in the kitchen area, without needing to look up he could tell he was preparing coffee. Mathias thought he might need a fair quantity. His eyelids were beginning to feel heavy already.

With his hot drink acquired, and a chunk of warm bread with fresh butter on a plate beside him, Mathias settled down and began to work. Flynn and Tandred, chatting demurely about Boralus Gossip and Flynn’s new life in Stormwind, were surprisingly easy to ignore. As he made his way through time off requests, pay slip approvals, and report feedback he had been putting off for weeks, their chatter began to melt into the background. Mathias even began to think he might be making progress after a while.

That was until the two of them started drinking.

Mathias had thought he was used to being around drunks by now, considering his time with Flynn Fairwind in his bed, but as their voices rose and the enthusiasm with which they discussed riggings and sails became inflated, he thought it was also very possible he was mistaken. The rum Mathias had brought home wasn’t anything special – He knew Flynn had bottles of Brandy and Whiskey and Vodka and other intoxicating things under the sink - and it had been more a show of begrudging acceptance when he had picked it out as opposed to an act of generosity. He had _thought,_ for this reason, it wouldn’t be strong enough to get them loaded or anything, but once again it seemed he was mistaken. Tandred’s drunken laugh was deep and bellowing and frankly, he couldn’t stand it much longer.

He stood up from the desk, stalked to the linen cabinet in the corner of the apartment next to the bed, and dug around inside it to find a towel.

“Alright, love?”

Flynn was speaking louder than usual, like he thought Mathias couldn’t hear him over how tipsy he was, and his words were a little slurred.

“I’m fine,” Mathias snipped. “Going to have a shower, if you two don’t mind.”

Tandred snorted, and Mathias could hear a glass bottle being lifted off a wooden surface from behind him.

“’Course not,” Flynn said, his grin audible. “Mind if one of us joins you?”

“No thank you.”

Towel in hand, Mathias made his way to the bathroom and closed the door. Their laugher and excitable chatter became muffled. Mathias sighed.

He could see through the small leaded window in the bathroom that it was dark outside now, and when he checked his watch it showed that the time was nearing nine o’clock. Mathias had finished at headquarters late, returning back to the apartment about six pm. He hadn’t had an entirely terrible show of it, and there was a chance that after he had washed the day off and taken a moment to breathe a little, he would be able to go back to his desk and put in a few more hours before bed.

He tried not to think about that other inevitable thing that would happen this evening. The part where Flynn and Tandred tumbled together, played around a little, all while Mathias had to pretend they weren’t there.

 _No,_ He braced himself against the thought. _That’s fine. Flynn can fuck who he pleases, I want no part in it._

So what if Tandred was the handsome and jovial type? So what if Flynn had really decided that their apartment was a suitable place for one of his ‘dates’ to stay the night? What did it matter to Mathias, that he had come home to what was basically an open invitation - Flynn had always made it clear Mathias could tryst with him and his buddies at any time, and he would have done so already if he wanted to. Besides, even if he _did_ want to try it out, it was irrelevant - Mathias had a fuckload of _important things to do._

The King had been stolen! Sylvanas was still alive! For everyone and anyone even remotely close to the center of Alliance operations, it was an unprecedented time. Definitely not an appropriate one for him to be... distracted.

Yes. That was the word for it.

Distracted.

Mathias turned on the shower, savoring the way the spray of the water muted the sounds of laughter coming through the wall, and pulled his clothes off. He stepped into the tub, reached for the rough cotton towel he used to clean himself, and went to town scrubbing all over. It was as though he was trying to clean more than dirt off.

 _Should I clean up in anticipation of being fucked tonight_?

Mathias forced himself to ignore such thoughts, even while he did exactly that. He had lain with Flynn a night previously, he told himself, and if one didn’t count the shower he had taken that morning, he hadn’t had a chance to clean up. This course of action definitely made sense, and definitely wasn’t because he was wondering how big Tandred might feel inside him at all.

When Mathias began to notice his manhood twitch, he turned the shower heat down. The cold water worked wonders, and as he washed his hair and face he almost forgot what it was he had been so flustered about in the first place.

He turned off the shower.

Through the wall, the room next door was suspiciously silent.

Mathias felt a lump rising in his throat.

When he dried himself, dressed, and left the bathroom, his eyes were trained directly on the chairs the two of them had been sitting in twenty minutes ago. Of course, both chairs were now empty. They had snuffed out the lamps in the room too – the last light in the apartment was the light from the fireplace, casting flickering orange ghosts across the room.

Oh dear.

Mathias could see the shapes on the bed from the corner of his eye, without even needing to turn around.

“What did you put out the lamps for, you idiots.” He tried his best to sound pissed off about it, refusing to even glance at the two of them on the bed in the corner. Flynn sighed.

“We were hoping you might want to join us,” He said, and his voice was light and breathy, overlaid by the wet noises of kisses against the warm planes of his body. Mathias had the image of Tandred kissing Flynn’s throat drift through his mind.

Flynn’s throat. Where Mathias liked to kiss him. It always caused him to make such lovely sounds.

He shook it off, and strode to the desk to find a candle or something. Anything he could use to illuminate the desk he needed to be sitting at.

“Not interested,” He said shortly. Flynn made a sound like he didn’t believe him, but was far too occupied to argue. Mathias chair scraped on the floorboards as he pulled his chair out and dropped down into it.

Behind him, the sound of the mattress moving under their weight, and breathing. Not Flynn’s breathing. Soft laughter, loosened by drink, tingled the back of his neck.

He could do work by firelight couldn’t he?

Yes he could. He must.

He hunched over, body tense, and tried with all his strength to block out the sound of playful exploration happening behind him. Naturally this was easier said than done.

He had never felt so… confronted by the act of fucking before. It wasn’t something he often came across in his line of work. When Flynn had first told him he liked a long leash, Mathias had been fine with that, and when Flynn had first suggested that Mathias might _join_ him in his encounters, he had been more or less unphased. Uninterested by the prospect, certainly, but not bothered by the request either. He had never had to actually meet Flynn’s dates before – most of them were chance encounters he would have elsewhere – and he had never actually known the people he was seeing before hand either. Perhaps that was why it was bothering him so much now? That, and definitely not the fact that Tandred was beautiful and Flynn was enthralling, and Mathias kept wondering if _he_ made noises like that when Flynn kissed him too. Sexy little ones, that seemed to tickle places deep inside his belly and inch between his legs.

Mathias tried to read a paragraph in the draft proposal he had written, something about a request for a scouting mission in Duskwood. He made it through the first few words of the first sentence, before the sound of wet kissing and fabric rustling distracted him, and he had to go back to the beginning and start again. His grip on his pen was so tight his knuckles were white. Tandred made a low sound of pleasure, and the words on the page in front of him swam before Mathias’ eyes.

It was painfully hard to read, in the firelight.

Against his best judgement, Mathias turned his head just an increment, looking to the shadowy shape of two bodies in contact from the safety of his peripheral. They moved together so smoothly, larger than he was, and the shape was so welcoming that he could help but wonder _._ Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to be fitted between them after all…

“Mat, _come…_ ”

Flynn’s voice made him jump. It wasn’t pleading, but it was getting there. Flushing, Mathias snapped his head around to stare straight forward. His toes curled against the hardwood floor.

“Not happening,” He said tersely. His voice cracked, and in response Flynn groaned.

“I promise you’ll enjoy it,” came the reply. “I really want to watch Tand sucking your cock.”

The hairs on his neck prickled. He could feel himself beginning to get hard inside his pants.

“I’m fine. Thank you.”

This was a lie – Mathias Shaw was not fine at all.

“Flynn’s been talking about how badly he wants me to fuck you all day,” Tandred’s voice, new and alluring, called to him. The easy amusement in his tone made Mathias embarrassed, but at the same time hearing those words sent a shiver down his spine.

“Has he now?” he asked through gritted teeth. Tandred hummed.

“He said you love a hard cock in you at the end of a long day, more than anything.”

Oh that _demon._ Mathias was going to kill him for that.

“Not as much as I love being left to work in peace.”

He turned his head to address them, more instinct than intention, and he regretted it when his demand that they try and keep it down died in his throat.

The men on the bed were not yet naked, but they would be soon, tangled in one another and watching him as though they were waiting for him to do or say something or great importance. Flynn winked when he spotted him looking, his arms curling around Tandred’s neck and pulling him close to his face so he could kiss him. In the low light, Tandred’s blue eyes glimmered – he did not pull his gaze off Mathias for a second as he let Flynn press his mouth against his cheek.

That _fire_. Was it just because he was drunk? Or was he actually attracted to Mathias?

No way. Couldn’t be that. He still wasn’t entirely convinced Flynn was attracted to him, and he and Flynn had been embroiled for many moons now.

“I’m really, really, _really_ not interested.”

It might have been more convincing if he wasn’t staring.

“Please yourself then,” Tandred told him, and his neat aristocrat accent was beginning to unravel at the edges, like a torn hem on a well-loved shirt. Mathias thought he could hear a touch of Flynn in him, now, and it was devastatingly attractive. So was watching him reach for Flynn’s face with a broad, confident hand. He forced Flynn’s chin up and pushed their lips together in the kind of demanding kiss that made Mathias melt, when he was on the receiving end.

 _Light help me,_ Mathias thought. _He is even pushier than Flynn is._

Not that Flynn was as yielding. He kissed back with the same assertive energy, dragging his hands over Tandred’s back, hauling his opened shirt off his shoulders and flinging it across the room towards the desk. It landed on the floor at Mathias feet.

Tandred’s back in the firelight was cut with muscle, smooth and freckled, and he bore a singular, arcing scar across one of his shoulder blades. Flynn’s fingers skated over it briefly, before moving up to tie in unkempt blond hair, and Mathias was transfixed. He had never seen Flynn like this, from this angle. Usually, Mathias kept his face hidden or his eyes closed, too self-conscious to watch the man twisting around him, but in this moment he felt no compulsion to hide himself. He wasn’t the one being explored, after all. There was no embarrassment to be had, about the marks on his skin or the way his body responded to touch, because now it was Flynn who was flushed and seeking stimulation. Flynn who was panting softly, soft hair disheveled, pushing his body up against Tandred’s and clearly not concerned about how desperate he was because unlike Mathias, Flynn was beautiful. His beauty only seemed more sublime the darker his cheeks were, and the more ragged his breath.

Mathias thought his ribs might crack open, contemplating how dazzling he was. It seemed unreal, in that moment, that someone that incredible could _ever_ want him, and yet here they were – Flynn’s eyes were flickering open, searching for Mathias across the room. When they found him, Flynn smiled, and it was reckless. Giddy. Euphoric. Tandred didn’t notice, too busy laying messy, hungry kisses down his throat.

“I thought you weren’t interested,” he teased, and Mathias could feel heat spread over his skin like fire spreading through dry grass. He wasn’t able to recall what it was he had been so preoccupied with earlier. Nothing on Azeroth could be as important as the things which were occupying him now.

“What?”

He would think about it later.

Flynn’s little gasp of laughter was effervescent, a background harmony for Tandred humming against the slope of his belly. Mathias felt his own mouth water, as he watched Tandred pushing Flynn’s legs open, wide enough for him to settle between them, and begin unlacing the front of his pants.

Mathias knew what was concealed inside there. He knew it well, by the touch of his hand and the touch of his mouth. Yet again though, it took him by surprise to see it from this vantage point, brushing against lips that were not his own. When Tandred opened his mouth to take him into it, Mathias couldn’t help but bristle in envy. His lips felt pillowed and sensitive, made to wrap around Flynn’s cock, and at the same time he was conscious of his own erection, pulsing with a dull heat and craving the wet caress of Tandred’s tongue.

Without realizing it, Mathias tightened his grip on the pen even more. Flynn’s brows pulled together in a soft furrow of delight, his lips parted, but even through the haze of pleasure his eyes were still fixed on Mathias’, drinking him in, dragging over him as though the thought of him watching was contributing to his experience.

Maybe it was.

Mathias bit down on the inside of his cheek, and as carefully as possible (heaven forbid he scrape the chair legs on the floor right now) he raised himself enough to turn the desk chair around. His pen rolled across the floor where he dropped it, and he sought Flynn’s eyes again as he sat back down. Unsure on whether he intended to or not, he let his legs fall open, and he could _see_ the excitement illuminating Flynn’s face. Excitement which was not solely related to the way Tandred began to swallow his cock.

_He really thinks this is hot?_

Of course he did. Flynn had always had a voyeuristic streak in him. Always wanted to watch Mathias’ face when they had sex. Always asked if he could see him touch himself, as though he was never even there in the first place. Mathias had always resisted indulging him – he hated the feeling of being seen, and whether that was because of his professional experience in the field of subtlety or because he was fundamentally insecure about himself, he didn’t know. What he _did_ know, however, was that his dick was aching and his heart was racing, and if he didn’t do something about it in the next thirty seconds he was going to combust.

Cheeks alight with shame, Mathias undid his trousers and slid his hand inside the front of his pants. Flynn moaned softly from across the room, rolling his hips up into Tandred’s mouth. Mathias had to pull his eyes away, unable to bear the feeling of being stared into any longer. He gripped the edge of the chair with the hand not wrapped around himself, and with the one that was he began to stroke.

The relief of contact made him whimper. Watching Tandred’s head bobbing between Flynn’s legs made his breath catch. He wondered, fleetingly, how often they had done this before. Had it always just been the two of them, or had they taken others at the same time? Again, the thought rose in him.

_What would it be like to be pressed between those chests?_

Mathias felt as though the world itself my crumble if he didn’t find out.

“ _Mat,”_ Flynn groaned gently, reaching out a hand in invitation. “C’mere.”

This time Mathias didn’t resist him, standing and pulling off his clothing as he made his way to the bed where they lay. Tandred made room for him, shuffling lower, giving Mathias enough space to straddle Flynn’s upper belly and press his hands flat against his sternum.

“You’re a whore,” Mathias told him, as coolly as he could manage with his heart in the back of his throat. Flynn grinned – Mathias could feel him rocking beneath him, pressing his length deep into Tandred’s mouth.

“Best whore you’ve ever had.”

He was right.

Mathias jumped, frightened by the sudden movement, when a large body loomed behind him and pulled him back against a warm, broad chest.

_Tandred._

Mathias’ stomach leapt. He could count on one hand the number of men who had laid hands on him like this, and as Tandred’s palm slid over his belly and down to his rigid cock, he noted that he was going to have to increase that number now.

Mathias leaned back into him, letting his head tip back against his shoulder, turning his face so he could bury it into the side of Tandred’s neck. His beard was soft and clean and ticklish, just like the diamond shaped patch of hair in the middle of his chest. He smelled like the rum the pair had been drinking, and like salt spray on a hot afternoon breeze. His hands were warm and calloused, and Mathias felt himself shiver when one of them wrapped around his length.

It felt good. Wonderful even. He could feel the tension of the day melting off him, and as Tandred’s spare hand migrated to tease one of his nipples he could feel Flynn squirming between his legs, breath catching as he said something to Tandred. Something that sounded suspiciously like

“Fuck him for me, Tand.”

The thought of Tandred’s dick splitting him open, rock hard and massive pressing against Mathias back, made his own twitch. The precum leaking over Tandred’s knuckles was obscene, dripping onto Flynn’s stomach below. A second pair of hands, ones he recognized as belonging to Flynn, moved to caress him as well. One held his hip in a gentle grip, the other cupped his balls gently, and there was a horrible moment where Mathias thought he would cum.

And then Tandred had released him, pushing him forward into Flynn’s chest, and winded he struggled to push himself into a kneeling position while Flynn pressed his tongue into his mouth. How Tandred knew they kept oil in their bedside, Mathias didn’t know. He wasn’t much bothered to find out. His erection was pressed against Flynn’s stomach, and the hands on his hips and thighs and back could have belonged to either one of them, mapping his contours, unraveling him. The fingers pressing inside, however, must have been Tandred, because they were thicker than Flynn’s were and didn’t quite know how to touch him just right. The strangeness was thrilling, though. In sharp contrast to the easy, practiced way Flynn’s tongue slid over his.

Maybe he would have felt debauched, in this moment, if he had been capable of feeling anything besides blissful abandon. He let his hands pull through Flynn’s hair, drawing in the scent, relishing the smoothness of it, the way it flowed over his knuckles and pooled on the pillow beneath Flynn’s head.

Tandred’s fingers curled, bumping against his prostate and making him moan wantonly into Flynn’s mouth. Emboldened by the response, Tandred repeated the action. Beneath his body Flynn was squirming, trying to move up so their hips were level, and he could wrap his hand around both of their cocks simultaneously.

Feeling Flynn’s manhood against his own reminded Mathias of the first time they had lain together, in the darkness, Mathias ashamed of every little sound he made and Flynn touching him with reverence that only made the embarrassment worse. It had been wonderful, and terrifying, and the memory of it ached sweetly like pressing a bruise. Like a finger rubbing against a sensitive place between his legs.

Tandred moved his hand. He replaced it with the head of his erection, making a low sound of approval when Mathias leaned back into him, begging for him to fill him again without saying a word.

“ _Tides,_ Flynn you weren’t kidding about this one.”

Mathias could taste Flynn’s satisfaction in his mouth – in the way his lips curved, and his tongue became less demanding. He let the kiss sink deeper. Slower and more sensual, and it was the perfect compliment to the feeling of being cleaved asunder. Tandred took his time, but he was massive, and Mathias felt his breath catching in Flynn’s mouth.

“ _Light,”_

He couldn’t contain his voice. Flynn mumbled something incoherent against his cheek, and moved to kiss his jaw and neck. His hand still worked between them, ensuring Mathias didn’t find himself soft before Tandred had finished hilting himself.

“What’s the matter, Spymaster? Never been fucked by a real man before?”

Flynn made a muffled sound, which wasn’t indignant so much as amused. Mathias’ eyes were watering, and he couldn’t respond to the question. He was too occupied by gasping uselessly, trying to drink in air like a fish out of water, and with Tandred’s length buried fully inside him he felt like he didn’t have enough room in his body to inflate his lungs properly.

He had been right - he _would_ never be able to look Jaina in the eye ever again.

The first few thrusts after insertion were the hardest, but it didn’t take long at all for the resistance to dissolve. Soon he was taking Tandred’s entire length like it was nothing, digging his nails into Flynn and riding the waves of pleasure that spread from the cradle of his hips.

Flynn had told the truth – there really wasn’t anything Mathias loved more than a cock inside him. He had thought that Flynn’s would be sufficient for the rest of his life, but in this moment he wasn’t so sure. Tandred was… much bigger. If possible, he was even more reckless with the way he slammed himself into him. Mathias might have thought that someone of his pedigree would have more class - if he had spent any time thinking about what it would be like to be fucked by him, of course.

A hand that wasn’t Flynn’s slid over his shoulder, to the base of his throat, and pulled him back again with a rough jerk. Mathias gasped, and Flynn did too – probably more annoyance than shock.

“Give him back,” He complained, pawing at Mathias’ chest with the hand not holding their erections together, “you dog,”

“Not a chance Flynn. He’s mine now.”

Tandred was working _very_ hard to make that the truth. Mathias didn’t have any choice but to reach back and grip his head, clinging to him for dear life while he was taken. Tandred’s hips thrust him into the warm, smooth pressure of Flynn’s palm, and every sensation was beginning to blur into one.

Wasn’t there something important he was supposed to be doing right now?

Probably not.

Flynn whined - he was starting to breathe the way he did when he was close to finishing, and it was doing strange things to the feelings pooling in Mathias’ gut. He could feel the coalescing ecstasy of a million flickering nerves. He could feel Tandred, dragging his cock against his trigger, panting against his neck and shoulder and squeezing gently at his throat. Mathias felt his pace stagger for a moment, and he wondered if he would be the same as Flynn. If he would lose the ability to keep rhythm as he approached climax. The idea excited him.

“Tandred,” He gasped, wondering if Flynn would be able to hear him speaking right against Tandred’s ear, “cum in me.”

Those hips faltered, and a low strangled sound came out of his mouth. Flynn echoed him, and Mathias turned his face down to look, and their eyes met through the low light and he _knew._

Flynn had heard him.

The feverish, lustful look on his face said it all.

“Do it, Tand.” He whispered,

And Tandred did.

Mathias let his head roll back again, riding the crest of the body behind him shuddering, savoring the sensation of that cock filling him in slow, deep pulses that seemed to reverberate in his core. Beneath him, Flynn arched up, begging him to finish too with deft, urgent jerks of his wrist. It wasn’t difficult – Tandred’s hands moved to his chest, massaging his nipples, and his mouth pressed against the side of Mathias neck. Every part of him was in rapture, the prickle of orgasm creeping up his back and along the length of his arms and legs, slow at first and then all at once. Flynn’s eyes seared on him as he came undone.

“ _Mat,”_

He said his name like it was the most precious thing in the world. Maybe it was, to him. In that moment, Mathias could have believed it was. He could feel Flynn’s release against his own softening length, still pressed inside the palm that held them both, and somehow it felt more intimate that the slip of Tandred’s cum between his thighs as he pulled out, and collapsed bonelessly onto the other side of the bed. No longer supported, Mathias let himself drop forward, into Flynn’s chest, and Flynn wrapped him into his arms immediately, raining kisses on his cheeks and forehead and eventually, his lips. Mathias didn’t even care about the mess squishing between them. Tandred, still catching his breath, laughed.

“If you two are going again, I might have to tap out.”

“We aren’t going again,” Mathias, too weak to move himself, let Flynn roll him over onto his back so he could bury his face against the side of his neck. The mattress was soft, and warm, and enveloping, and he thought he could happily lie here forever in Flynn’s arms.

“Arent we?”

His smile was audible, punctuating the adoration he lavished on every inch of skin he could find.

“Not right now.”

“But later? I haven’t had a chance to fill you up yet.”

True enough.

Mathias sighed, trying to recompose his thoughts. It was difficult – his whole body had been overtaken by a deep sense of calm. Maybe instead of composing his thoughts, he should try and hold onto that calm a little longer?

“I haven’t finished working,” He recalled, and Flynn groaned.

“So? It’s very rude to be doing work when you have guests over, you know.”

“He’s not my guest, Flynn, and if you recall I never wanted him over in the first place. No offence.”

Tandred laughed again.

“None taken. But I hope I’ve convinced you to let me at least stay the night.”

Mathias thought about it. Eventually, he decided.

“Very well,” He said, curling against Flynn’s chest. “I will allow it. Just one night.”

One night for now.


	4. Anduin/Mathias - Hand Feeding - Honey for Breakfast, Manna for Lunch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DAY FOUR: Hand Feeding  
> PAIRING: Mathias Shaw/Anduin Wrynn  
> TAGS: Hand Feeding, Age Difference, Anal Sex, Mathias gets slapped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so here’s the thing. Mathias Shaw is a hard bottom, and he will allow himself to be topped by any man with a ponytail. This was revealed to me in a dream, so you know it must be true.

Mathias Shaw winced as Anduin peeled back the bandage, inspecting the knife wound slotted in the gap between two of his ribs. The young priest clucked, concern furrowing his forehead, and without asking for permission he pressed his fingers against the skin on the side of Mathias’ stomach. Mathias could tell that he was not pleased with the way the wound oozed, and even he had to admit that he had been uncomfortable with how it had begun to putrefy around the edges. Probably, he had deduced after not much reflection, the person who stabbed him had used a poisoned knife.

“I can’t believe you didn’t want to see a healer about this, Spymaster.”

“It’s nothing.” Mathias lied.

The young king scoffed, tossing the old bandage aside. “The gash is rancid _,_ actually _._ Let me take care of it, if you don’t mind?”

Mathias _hated_ the idea of that. It had been mortifying enough that he had been stabbed in the first place – it was not a boon to his reputation, to be the victim of some deceitful gremlin with malice in his eye. To be in a position where the High King of the Alliance was offering to heal him? Humiliating. Despicable. Shockingly unprofessional. Besides, the King had much more important things to do with his life.

“That won’t be necessary, Your Majesty.”

Mathias pushed the young man away, as gently as he could, and carefully stood up from where he was sitting. Anduin had come to his room in the Snug Harbour Inn, where Mathias was staying while he was recovering, and he definitely hadn’t expected a visitation here since the King was only supposed to be in the city for a few days. Some idiot on the boat must have dobbed him in, divulging that he had been off work for a while. Mathias made a note to find out who it was, and fire them as soon as possible. “Besides, I think it’s poisoned. Beyond your abilities as a Priest.”

“Well can I at least try?”

Anduin leaned back on the small table in the corner of the room, watching Mathias move towards the window that overlooked Boralus Harbour. Moving his arm upwards to open the window sent a sharp jab of pain through his abdomen. Anduin saw him cringe in discomfort, and Mathias didn’t even need to turn around to feel him narrowing his eyes at the back of his head.

“No.”

“Very well. In that case, I command you allow me to heal you.” He said it with an air of haughtiness, that reminded Mathias more of a spoiled youth than a gracious leader. “Do you intend to deny me now?”

Damn the boy. Just. Damn him.

This was the last thing Mathias’ needed.

Life in Boralas had been hard for him, and ever since their arrival here the push against the Horde had been unrelenting. His patience, which was usually reasonable, was beginning to wear thin, and the Alliance hadn’t even been here longer than a season! It didn’t help that the weather was always so glum, the food was fucking awful, and every time he left the boat to stretch his legs he ran into that fucking _ex-pirate_ with the ponytail, who waved at him and like to address him like a close friend even though they had only met once in their lives. The way the fellows voice made Mathias’ pulse pick up was just _terrible._ Not good at all. The thought that now, on top of everything else, Mathias would have to inconvenience his direct superior?

He hated it.

The boy was hardly old enough to take a lover to his bed, let alone shoulder the burden of an entire group of people. Mathias thought it was _hardly_ acceptable for him to also take the onus of fixing this.

He scowled, dropped down on the edge of the bed, and raised the arm on the injured side of his body so Anduin could access it.

“Very well, then.” He bristled. “Make it quick.”

Anduin gave him a look, which told him quite clearly that he disliked the reluctance in his tone, but he did not rebuke him. He stepped forward, assertive in his movements, and without flinching he knelt, so he could lay a hand over the wound on the side of Mathias’ body.

“How did this even happen?” He asked, as Mathias hissed. Apparently, the renowned priest had no qualms about just slapping a fetid gash like it was a regular old patch of naked skin. Mathias forgot himself for a moment, in the pain.

“Well I got _fucking_ stabbed, didn’t I?”

Anduin sighed, and he turned his eyes away from Mathias’ face to focus on the ministrations of his hand. As the sting receded, Mathias could feel his palm was soft and warm. It radiated something, not unlike the gentle pulsing warmth of a winter’s veil fireplace, and soon there was no more sharp, tender pain left. Just a gentle throbbing. When he looked down, he could see the hand against his skin was emitting a faint glow – the kind like sunlight pouring through a spring morning fog.

“Yes clearly. I’m asking to know why you got stabbed.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I’m not asking you as your King, Spymaster. But I will if I have to.”

Light damn him! He was stubborn, if nothing else. No wonder Genn Greymane was so fond of him. Mathias relented, and turned his face upwards to the ceiling. He didn’t want to remember the incident, cognisant of having a man on his knees before him.

“I was in Dampwick Ward,” He said, trying to keep his voice even, but not _too_ even. He didn’t want to come across as suspicious. “It’s one of the more… Troubled areas of the city. I should have been more alert.”

“Why were you in Dampwick Ward?”

Mathias could hear the frown in the King’s voice. Either he didn’t understand why a Mathias might be out and about doing things that weren’t directly related to the wellbeing of the crown in his free time, or the reputation of the place had preceded it.

“Personal business,” He said tightly, staring at the large crack that ran through the ceiling of the room, as though he hoped it might open up wide and swallow him.

“You have personal business?”

Mathias couldn’t tell if it was a jab, or some kind of dry joke, or perhaps Anduin really _was_ surprised by it.

“Not often, but yes.”

“Hm.” The pressure on his rib shifted slightly, as Anduin adjusted his hand. “Well, did you at least finish your business?”

“No.” Mathias told him flatly. “I got stabbed.”

Robbed too. The man he had picked up probably wasn’t even an escort, looking back on it. Mathias had thought he looked a little too… sloppy for the job. But he was a long way from home, and he couldn’t afford to be picky, and he didn’t want to risk being recognised wandering into the Uptown Borough brothel and requesting the nicest fellow they had with a ponytail on him. It was his first time out in Boralus trying to pay for a good time - the first day off he had had in maybe… two months? More? Of course, he would suck the flaming dick of Sargeras himself before he tried to fuck any of his colleagues or soldiers.

What else was he supposed to do?

Anduin stopped asking questions. They sat for a few moments in silence, and as the time passed Mathias felt himself relax a little. The breeze rolling in the cracked open window was actually warm and pleasant on his naked upper body. From up here, the sounds of Tradewinds Market below was a peaceful hum. Anduin’s hand, still pulsing gently with light, felt good on him. Comforting. It was the first human contact he had had for a long, _long_ time. Not including the assault, courtesy of the chap who was likely not a prostitute.

Eventually, Anduin moved his hand away. It slid over Mathias skin easily, down his waist and to his hip where it stayed, and once the hand was gone Mathias twisted around to look at the spot that had previously been marred by a messy, bloody gash.

There was nothing there. Not even a scar.

Oh, the boy was trouble, for sure. But he was also very, very good.

“Was that so hard?” he asked lightly, and Mathias looked down to meet his gaze. He felt a flush steal up his neck, as that sense that the boy was looking _past_ him, staring inside his skull and combing the surface of his mind, overcame him.

“No.” He said, thinning his lips, trying as best he could to resist the intrusion. Anduin’s eyes fluttered, Mathias thought before he could help himself

_He’s so handsome._

He regretted it almost immediately, when a small smile turned the corners of the young man’s lips.

“Good. I’m glad.”

Anduin stood up, the well-formed muscles under his shirt moving smoothly as he stepped away, to the table, and plucked an apricot from the blue ceramic bowl sitting atop it. He bit down on the fruit, chewed for a moment in thought, then offered the remainder to Mathias who stared at it like he was completely mad.

“What?”

“Eat. The healing will take better if you eat something now.”

“Can I have one you haven’t eaten half of?”

“No.” He shook his head, gaze steady, and waited patiently for Mathias to take the fruit from him like it was a gift. Some kind of blessing.

Well fuck.

He didn’t even need to say it. Mathias knew he would order him to do it, if he declined.

He took the apricot and bit into it. The fruit was sweet, and had a perfect texture, but Mathias thought he could taste some other flavour at the edge of his palate. The taste of an illicit kiss, maybe? Anduin stood over him, watching him eat with a shadow of satisfaction in his eyes.

“I’m sorry about your personal business,” He said, holding his gaze even as Mathias finished, and set the fruit stone on the bedside table.

“I will survive.”

Anduin nodded. From this angle, the King’s hair hung forward around his face, framing the striking, square line of his jaw. His lips were thin, and glossed with apricot, and Mathias’s heart twinged with the urge to touch the upturned tip of his nose. To map the planes of his cheeks with his fingertips. He wondered fleetingly when it was, the last time he had really looked at the man. Had he ever?

Certainly not. That was unbelievably inappropriate.

“Not if you go around being impaled like that.”

The way he emphasized the word ‘impaled’ made the hair on the nape of Mathias neck stand on end. Anduin continued.

“I don’t think you are looking your best at the moment, Spymaster. If you don’t mind me saying, you seem a touch worn down.”

A hand lifted, a single fingertip coming to rest on Mathias forehead, directly between his brows. Mathias realised at the touch that there was a crease there – a valley of strain carved into his face. He had been frowning so hard, and he hadn’t even noticed it, but Anduin did and Anduin had probably noticed how tired his eyes were too. How his hair was a little less clipped than usual. How his moustache needed a shape and a trim.

“Perhaps I should heal you more,” He mused.

“That won’t be necessary,” Mathias told him.

“Perhaps I should _command_ you to let me. Or at least, command you take a longer break to recover. You would have enough time to see to your…”

Mathias knew what he would say before he said it.

“Personal business?”

“Personal business.”

The finger on his face drifted, tracing down the sharp, strong bridge of Mathias’ nose, across the tip, down over the edge of his moustache and then.

Against his lips.

Mathias’ heart lurched.

“I assure you, I’m fine.”

But his voice gave him away. Anduin could hear the strain in it. They both could.

“Master Shaw. Mathias. Loyal servant to the Alliance, and asset to the Crown. Please just let me help you. You know that I can.”

Did he offer in compassion? Or pity? It was impossible to tell.

“Do I?”

“Of course. Anyone can penetrate a man in a dark alley with a blade, if that’s what he is really seeking. Even me.”

“That’s not what I’m seeking.”

“What isn’t? Penetration? Or a blade?”

Mathias thought he might combust from embarrassment.

“… A blade,” He admitted, through gritted teeth. Anduin smiled and moved his hand to cup the side of Mathias’ face.

“I think someone who has shown such loyalty deserves my personal thanks. And if penetration is what he seeks? Then that will be what he gets.” He paused for a moment, as if in thought. Mathias could feel the warmth of his skin against his face, and he realised that even when not actively healing, his body radiated that same force field of light. Redemption and restoration. The promise of… relief.

“You’re a terrible child,” Mathias told him.

“King,” Anduin corrected him. “Also, a man. In case you didn’t notice.”

Obviously, Mathias had noticed.

The terrible King, who was also a man, bowed at the hips to plant a innocent kiss against Mathias’ temple. In spite of the control he exercised, the caution taken to be gentle, exploratory, and kind, the contact was almost far too much for the spymaster who could not recall the last time he had been kissed. The memory of the man who had stabbed him rose to the surface of his mind. Dark hair in his face and tumbling down his back. Thick thighs. An easy smile. Attempted murderer or not, Mathias still very much wished he had fucked him. Just like he found himself wishing as much when he saw a handsome soldier in his ranks. When he brushed shoulders with a towering stranger at the markets. When he walked slightly faster past the island expedition table, in the vain hope that the pirate man wouldn’t notice him passing and yell “ _Oh! Hey there Master Shaw! Knife anyone interesting lately?”_

“Just buy me some company for the evening,” He pleaded, knowing that it would only be another moment or two before he would succumb. He knew what Anduin’s answer was before he even said it out loud.

“No. Allow me.”

Inexorably, all of Mathias’ walls came down. A soft finger traced his jawline, finding purchase under his chin, and Anduin tipped his head back so he could kiss him on the mouth. The kiss tasted of apricots, and the warmth that moved through him was akin to the warmth of that healing touch except much softer. More cloying. When Anduin parted his lips, letting the tip of his tongue press inside Mathias’ mouth, he did not resist him, and the sensation of tongues sliding together made molten pleasure move down his back. He thought he might be trembling already. He was terribly aware of his burgeoning manhood, constrained within his pants.

The bed creaked under them as Anduin pushed him back, and it was far too squishy and soft for sleeping on but by all accounts, it would be better than a dank alleyway to fuck in. The weight of his body against Mathias’ was superb, his legs were strong and his chest was broad. Everything about him was clean and elegant and powerful. When he reached back and pulled his hair free from it’s ribbon, Mathias moaned into his mouth. The scent of clean hair, the feeling of it brushing against his face, was exhilarating. Anduin had the perfume of a summer dawn. Of sweet citrus, and of clear water. He lacked the slightly rougher, bitter edge that characterised the men Mathias usually slept with, but pleasure was pleasure nonetheless and in those moments it flowed freely. Mathias Shaw, lost in an intoxicated stupor, drunk his fill.

At least, he drunk as much as he could before Anduin pulled away again, pushing himself to his feet as though he had just remembered something important he ought to be doing instead of this. There was a moment in which Mathias felt cheated, before shame stole over him and he hoped Anduin had not heard the thought.

He was prone to doing that kind of thing. The menace.

“Your Majesty?”

Mathias scrambled to prop himself up, but Anduin held out a commanding hand, telling him without his voice that he ought to stay there. Do not move. He would be back.

The expression on his face was… unusual for him. As Mathias suspected his own sluttish expression was unusual on himself. Where Anduin was usually well composed and virtuous, he seemed a little off kilter now. A tad rumpled. Arguably flustered.

“Apricot,” He offered, in way of explanation, and his voice was still steady but his movements betrayed a kind of nervous energy Mathias hadn’t seen in him before. Mathias had known the man his whole life, so that was notable. He watched from the bed as Anduin hurried to the table, untying his shirt and breeches as he went, and snatched another couple of fruits from the bowl. After stripping off his bottoms and kicking them away, he bounded back to the bed. The mattress buckled under his weight as he leapt onto it. Mathias swore in surprise.

“Have you lost your senses?”

“Perhaps.” A short laugh, a giggle almost, bubbled out of him, but then it was whisked away again and the mask of grace returned. His expression shifted, re-establishing his noble demeanour, even though his eyes were still illuminated with an unfamiliar excitement. Mathias’ heart punched against the inside of his sternum. “That is to say, Spymaster, do you _think_ I have lost my senses?”

“… Obviously you have.”

His mouth curved, and the spark in his eye shifted to a veritable inferno. He straddled Mathias hips, bracing himself on his chest with one hand and leaning in close to offer an apricot with the other.

“Eat,” He commanded, rocking his hips so his ass rubbed against Mathias’ erection. “When was the last time you had a good meal?”

It had been last night, actually; The innkeeper at the Snug Harbour did decent Sunday lunches. He knew that wasn’t what he was really being asked, however. The fruit hovered less than an inch from his face, and he could smell it faintly. Sweet and softly furred. The same texture as Anduin’s cheek might be, if he were to pull him down and press a kiss to it.

“Are you serious?” He asked. Anduin’s eyes flashed.

“Deadly,”

He pushed the fruit closer, and it brushed against Mathias’ moustache. Mathias was beginning to feel an ache deep in the side of his body the wound had been on. Was this feeling longing? Humiliation? Terror?

A most peculiar hybrid of all three?

He bit into the fruit. Truth be told, it was a little awkward. He hadn’t been fed by another since he was an infant, and the experience was both too strange, and too intimate. Not only this, but it was _embarrassing…_ he felt powerless under the other man. Completely pathetic. The apricot was sweet to the taste, but the juice was wetting his lips like a messy kiss and dripping down his chin like he was a grubby child who couldn’t wipe his mouth. How degrading.

_Oh no. How unfortunate._

He liked it very much.

Anduin’s smile curved wider as he felt Mathias’ cock twitching under him. He brought the apricot to his own mouth and peeled off the last of the flesh with his teeth, before tossing the stone onto the hardwood floor. It clattered, and disappeared under the drawers below the window. He swiped the back of his hand across his lips before offering the second apricot, conjuring it from where he had it tucked at the back of his palm.

“Such excellent service, Spymaster. Thank you. One more.”

Mathias did it again, biting into more of the soft flesh this time, and the fruit was not as sweet as the others – it bore a slight tanginess that made the hair on his arms prickle. Anduin let out a breathy sound, not quite a moan but close enough to make Mathias shiver.

“How does it taste?” He murmured. Mathias chewed what he had in his mouth and swallowed, before responding.

“Sour,” He said, and he could hear how shamefully horny he was. “Still delicious.”

“Hm.” Anduin pulled the fruit back and ate the remainder. The second stone too was cast aside. He brought his fingers down, sticky with juice, and touched them against Mathias lips.

“Suck.”

This was something Mathias much preferred to eating food from his hand. Something he had done before, and relished, even. He closed his eyes and let Anduin’s fingers push into his mouth, pressing against his tongue, tasting of summer fruit and warm with the tingle of the holy light. What an odd taste. An odd response too – it was as though a short prick of pleasure was being shot straight into the root of his brain. Anduin laughed when he squirmed beneath him, and he pulled his fingers away before Mathias wanted him to.

“No,” he heard himself protesting the loss, moving to grab the hand and pull it back but Anduin was faster than he was and he batted the grasping hands aside effortlessly.

“Yes. Roll over for me please. And pull off the pants.”

Why did he have to say please like that? It just made it feel even more surreal. Even more mortifying. Should Mathias be saying thank you when he put his cock in him?

He did as he was told anyway, Anduin raising himself enough that Mathias could manoeuvre onto his stomach and remain lying between his spread legs. Weight returned to the backs of his thighs once the pants and underclothes were gone. Anduin leaned in close, so his whisper could be heard against the back of Mathias’ ear.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he said, “until you feel well again. Understood?”

Mathias whined, a fresh bloom of heat bursting over his neck and cheeks, and he was glad he was head down in a pillow so the king couldn’t see his face. Anduin lay a wet, lapping kiss over the back of his ear, lingering long enough to tease it with the tip of his tongue and leave Mathias panting and shaking like a virginal wench.

He must have wanted sex so badly. Desperately even. Bad enough to risk dying so that he could have it again, clearly, and bad enough to let himself be reduced to _this_ by a twenty-year-old. As those kisses trailed down the side of his neck, they left softly pulsing trails of healing magic in their wake. Mathias could feel faint shadows of pain disappear from him, his muscles meeting wonderful respite at someone else’s touch, and he was aware of something much more powerful there, besides. Something headier. Divine. An ephemeral, ridiculous thought occurred to him.

_Does Velen know he uses the light like this?_

“Of course not,” Anduin muttered, another discreet admission of his skill in manipulating minds. Blessed by the light, and by the void alike… it didn’t take Mathias by surprise, but it did send a chill through him. It was a chill braided with delight, as Anduin sat back and caressed the ladder of his spine.

“I’m sorry,” He said, “I forgot to ask. How do you like to be taken? I can do it like this, or you can ride my cock for your pleasure.”

The cock in question was pressed softly against Mathias’ behind, still secured behind his undergarments, but ready to be put to good use.

“Like this is good,” He exhaled, and Anduin seemed pleased by that response. He gave Mathias a soft pat on the ass and leaned over, to retrieve the complimentary bottle of oil sitting in the draw of the bedside table. Mathias didn’t question how he knew how to prepare him. How he knew how to oil his fingers, spread him open, and rub those slick fingertips against him until finally, his body yielded and let one in. Then two. Then three. Mathias was drowning in the bliss of it, the sensation of being stretched and full again after so long. And those _fingers…_

Contrary to popular belief, they were _unspeakably_ unholy. But they were unholy in the most incredible way.

He whined in frustration when the fingers left him, but only for a moment. The weight on the backs of his thighs shifted, and he could feel Anduin’s cockhead sliding against the place the fingers had been.

He moaned aloud before he was even fully entered, the pressure of insertion enough to make his eyes tip back in ecstasy, and deep down beyond the plane of his conscious he was once again glad Anduin couldn’t see him like this. This was so unseemly. So forbidden. He was _such_ an inconvenience, a disgrace to the Alliance, and never had he ever felt so underserving of a cock in his life. Especially not one that felt so perfect. So well formed. Shaped just right to drag across his favourite place without even having to make an effort to find it. Above him, Anduin groaned.

“So needy, Spymaster.”

When he leaned down, nose pressing against the back of his head, Mathias could feel his hair tickling his neck.

Anduin rocked into him, tentatively, and received another long moan in response. All the tiredness and pain of earlier had evaporated off of him, and all he could feel was relief. The throbbing desire for more. The light caressing the contours of his body and filling him from head to toe.

Anduin began to build up his pace. After a while, Mathias was arching his back and lifting his hips to give him better leverage to push into him. The sound of their bodies in contact was so lewd and so distant, because all Mathias could hear was his own ragged breath and the thrumming of his pulse in his ears. With every motion, his length struck that perfect angle and made Mathias’ erection drip, and pressed down into the mattress the caress of the coverlet rubbed against the back of his shaft. There must have been a wet spot there the size of a fist at least. He felt so good. He felt better than good. He felt magnificent. Magical. More delicious than the sweetest honey, or the lingering taste of stone fruit on his lips.

He could feel his orgasm crawling over the backs of his legs first, before sinking deep into his pelvis where it coiled like a spring ready to break. Anduin worked above him with a steady, firm pace, and his breath was starting to become short too. The hand grasping Mathias hip was shaking, the other, pressed fanned out against the back of one of his shoulders, dug into his flesh hard enough that it might have bruised. The thought of having Anduin Wrynn cum inside him was the thought that brought him to the cusp, and the feeling of fingers petting his hair like he was a temperate lapdog was what pushed him over. 

Mathias fell into climax hard and fast, and it racked his whole body with convulsions. The first release after weeks and weeks on end, it was enough to wind him, to make him cry out, and every inch of him burned in pulsing rapture. Anduin’s release, however, came with a strangled cry and the stilling of his hips. The way he shuddered was youthful and ill experienced, and a chilling realisation cut through the euphoria of Mathias’ afterglow.

Anduin Wrynn was only just twenty. Barely a man. And he was the _King._

The King almost toppled off the bed when Mathias jerked up under him, turning around and pulling his legs to himself. Trying to recover some of his dignity.

“I am _so sorry,_ ” Mathias said, voice cracking in horror at what they had done. “Your Majesty, I-“

Anduin righted himself, leaned forward, and delivered him a short, sharp slap to the face. It did not hurt, but it did shut him up quickly.

“Keep it together, Mathias! in the name of all that is Holy.”

He was short on breath, but for all intents and purposes back to being his usual officious self. A remarkable feat, considering even his dick was out and his cheeks were pink and his hair looked like he had just been dragged through a hedgerow backwards. The glimpse of a youth Mathias had spotted only moments earlier was gone. Although he definitely did look a little shaken.

“How are you feeling?” Anduin asked. “Are you feeling a bit better now?”

Mathias didn’t know how to answer that.

He just nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has anyone noticed im obsessed with long hair yet?


	5. Flynn/Mathias - Somnophilia - A Treatise On Snakes and the Wilderness at Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DAY FIVE: Somnophilia  
> PAIRING: Flynn Fairwind/Mathias Shaw  
> TAGS: Potentially Dubious Consent, Grinding, Masturbation, Somnophilia (Obvs.), Flynn is a horny little binch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DAYY 5!!! GIVE IT UP FOR DAY 5!!@!
> 
> TT^TT ~~ OTL

Flynn Fairwind could not sleep.

This was, by all accounts, highly unusual.

Flynn was accustomed to sleeping on a _boat,_ after all, with a long and successful record of snoring his way through a spectrum of events that included (but was not limited to,) murloc uprisings, temporal inversions, and a very nasty thunderstorm. Admittedly, he had been drunk as all fuck when he did so, but he figured the principle was the same. Where he was lying now had at least two advantages over a cabin in a boat in the middle of the Great Sea. The first advantage was that it _wasn’t_ moving. The second, was that Mathias Shaw was sleeping next to him.

This second thing was also highly unusual. Based on what he had witnessed over the past few weeks, Flynn had begun to suspect that Mathias never slept at all.

His military issued sleeping bag, provided by Mathias at the beginning of their journey, made a deeply unpleasant noise when he rolled over. The fabric was thin and cool to the touch, but somehow lying wrapped in it left him sweltering hot. He had to lie with the upper half of his body out, and naturally this meant that the part of him not sweating in the sleeping bag was _freezing_ cold. It didn’t help that the ground beneath him was hard, like he was sleeping on… well, compacted dirt. Outside the confides of their silly little tent, the noises of the wild shattered the silence of the night. A cacophony of insects and rustling leaves. A symphony of strange noises, like distant jaguars yowling at one another and hunting for unsuspecting prey.

Flynn remembered, with an uneasy flutter in his stomach, that he had seen snakes while they had ridden out this way. Big ones, the size of his thighs, and small ones shorter than the span of his hand. This was their first night not cloistered in an inn or encampment. Of course, it couldn’t have been in a nice safe desert not populated by a single living soul. It couldn’t have been up in Arathi, where the planes were empty, and the moons shone as bright as the midday sun. Or in Westfall.

“Don’t worry,” Mathias had told him as they had pitched their tent in the dying daylight. “Most of them aren’t venomous.”

“ _Most_ of them?”

This hadn’t been very reassuring at the time. If possible, it was even less reassuring now.

Flynn could hardly even make out the shape of Mathias curled up next to him in the darkness, but he knew without needing to look that he was sleeping perfectly soundly. It was likely that no thoughts of snakes lingered in his mind, and it was equally likely that he was sleeping so easily because unlike Flynn, Mathias had done this ‘sleeping in the field’ business many times before. Mathias seemed like the sort of person who didn’t really need much, or even very good quality, sleep - When they were staying in an inn, or back in Flynn’s cabin on the _Arva_ , Flynn was accustomed to Mathias being awake both when he fell asleep and when he stirred again. This was consistent, no matter how much Flynn tried to exhaust him. For the most part, he seemed content to simply lie there while Flynn was sleeping, either reading a book, or carding his fingers gently through Flynn’s hair. 

Flynn rather enjoyed waking up to the feeling of Mathias playing with his hair. The contact was intimate and unfamiliar – he hadn’t thought of himself as someone who savored tenderness before, but the way Mathias touched him in general was infatuating. Simultaneously desirous, yet refrained. The more Flynn peeled back the spymaster’s guarded heart, the more he treasured his most vulnerable places, and every day they were together Flynn began to see and feel and understand more and more.

And now this.

Now he was sleeping, completely defenseless. Secure even in the heart of untamed, unpredictable jungle land.

Flynn shuffled closer to him, winding an arm around his shoulder and with a surprising amount of difficulty drew him to his chest. Mathias was slightly smaller than he was, but he carried a lot of muscle weight and apparently, he slept like a log. An odd quality to have, considering his profession. Huffing quietly, Flynn curled himself around Mathias’ body – his heat was delicious against Flynn’s cold skin, and it seemed like a strange, beautiful magic, the natural way their shapes seemed to fit together. As if Flynn was born solely to hold him like this, in the dark.

The slow throb of Mathias heart was tangible under Flynn’s palm. His breathing was deep and steady, and Flynn closed his eyes to focus on the sound of it. He remembered the other times he had been able to hear Mathias breathing – normally it was much rougher, and more desperate than this, and naturally thoughts of these moments warmed even the coolest parts of him The crinkle of sleeping bags between them suddenly felt cruel and unusual.

 _Tides,_ Mathias was beautiful. He was lithe and graceful and clever, and Flynn loved more than anything to try to make him smile. Trying to get him to laugh, or roll his eyes, or talk freely. Honestly, Flynn didn’t even care about what he talked about, as long as the words were spilling from his lips, and the willingness to speak them showed that the heart inside his chest was opening for him and him alone. Flynn loved the way he sat at his desk when he was working, back completely straight like a steel spike, and the way he lifted his chin a little when he was talking to someone – a subtle gesture of authority that always made Flynn’s knees feel weak. More than anything, Flynn loved the way he said his name when they were fucking. The way his body surrendered to him, clung to him, drew him in and held him there like he was a life raft in a tempest sea. The way Mathias _needed_ him, but would never actually admit it out loud.

Flynn whimpered softly and nuzzled the aide of Mathias’ neck.

“Mat,” He whispered, rocking his hips and letting his nascent erection bump against the swaddled body beside him. “Are you awake?”

No response. No movement. Nothing. Just the steady, peaceful breathing, and the sound of the wilderness outside.

Damn.

Should he just… roll over then and take care of himself? It was possible that rubbing one out quickly might help him find rest. In order to do that, though, he would have to be parted from Mathias and exposed once again to the cold. Neither of these things were really appealing to him – it was already troublesome enough, that they were cocooned in separate sleeping bags and forced to make themselves comfortable on frozen, rock hard dirt. To have to turn away now would deny him his only comfort, and Flynn doubted he would be able to find any pleasure in a fugitive, desperate attempt to get himself off. Not when Mathias was lying inches away, unwary, radiating heat and dreaming of him.

At least, Flynn hoped he was dreaming of him. He hoped he was having the sweetest dreams…

His heart jumped, and so did his cock, when Mathias stirred in his arms.

“’ _S’ot,”_ He mumbled, his voice low and thick with sleep. He twisted his body, and for a moment Flynn thought he was trying to escape his arms but in the end he seemed satisfied to just shimmy out of his sleeping bag enough to expose his shoulders and chest to the air.

“It’s what now?” Flynn asked. Mathias did not reply. He was already lost again, in the endless oblivion of sleep.

This was maddening, honestly. The soft noises he made, the tickle of his hair against Flynn’s cheek, made Flynn almost dizzy with how much he craved to touch him. He rubbed his nose against the side of Mathias’ jaw, lips barely brushing against his throat, drawing in his scent and savoring the rub of faint stubble against the planes of his face. His hand drifted over the unseen contours of Mathias’ chest. His nipples were hard like pebbles in the chill, and the fine hairs that dusted his pecs were soft and smelled richly of him. Enough to make Flynn’s mouth water.

“ _Wake up_ ,” Flynn implored him, his longing almost breaking him in two as he felt Mathias breath catch under his hands.

It would be easy to just shake him awake and proposition him. He knew that. It would be easy to just rouse him and ask if he could borrow a hand for a moment. Maybe his lips. And he knew Mathias wouldn’t deny him, even if he was annoyed at being disturbed. In spite of this, though, Flynn knew he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t just pull him out of rest like that, and use him to get off. Could he?

_No._

Then maybe he could just do it without waking him up?

_How does that work?_

Well, Flynn supposed he could just grind on him a bit. Maybe. It seemed kind of dirty, and still not quite what he wanted. But it was better than finishing over the back of his hand. He had reached a stage in his relationship with Mathias that he never wanted to have to finish over the back of his own hand ever again, if he could help it.

Flynn pressed a hungry kiss against Mathias’ neck, and let his palm sweep down that taught belly, to his navel. The contours of Mathias’ muscles were welcoming and familiar – Flynn had always been drawn to the elegant lines that described his form. Flynn himself was large and fit, but his body was also soft in places and not nearly as well cut as Mathias’ was. He had always had a weakness for people who looked like they could crush him if they wanted to, and Mathias Shaw was probably the man most capable of that in the entire universe. His strong, hard physique could have put even the beefiest, bulkiest warrior to shame.

Mathias didn’t seem to notice.

Outside the tent, a birdcall echoed. Did that mean dawn was approaching? Or was it just another predator in the dead of night?

Flynn tried to block out the sound, imagining they were cozied up somewhere warm and safe like the inn they had stayed at when they passed through Elwynn, or the small apartment Mathias had invited him to only briefly when they first started to embark on their new relationship. Flynn thought it would be sweet, to lay with him there. To wake in the morning and find him cooking breakfast, or to pull him onto the bed he had slept on for years and ravish him so thoroughly that he forgot any instance of being ravished before.

The kisses on his neck soon became soft bites, and Flynn’s hips rocked up against the body in his embrace. Through the gloom, he caught the sound of Mathias sighing, and it reminded him of the way he sighed in pleasure when Flynn touched him just right. It sent a dart of pleasure up Flynn’s back. The hand resting against Mathias’ stomach brushed lower, skirting the top of the sleeping bag bunched around his waist, testing the waters to see if he would be allowed to press further.

_Allowed?_

Flynn already knew he was going to do it anyway. The temptation was to great. Mathias probably wouldn’t be pissed if he woke up right now, right?

Flynn’s hand hesitated. His pulse skipped nervously in his chest.

What if he was?

His erection was pressed hard against Mathias’ back, aching for him as much as Flynn’s heart did. His whole body was twisted around Mathias’ frame, guarding him from the outside world, but also trying to draw him in closer so there was no more boundaries between them.

“Mat?” He asked again, and his voice sounded so loud in the dark. “Please wake up?”

He didn’t wake up.

Flynn felt his strength buckle, and his self-control gave way like rubble in a landslide, over the edge of a cliff and into a murky and cavernous place.

He bit his lip, pressing his hand lower and delving into the heat between Mathias’ thighs, where he sought the familiar softness of his manhood resting there. There was no sign of resistance at all as he touched him through cotton undergarments - Mathias made a low keening sound, but did not close his legs or push him away. Flynn’s lips skated up to the spot behind his ear, and inhaled the perfume of his hair deep into his lungs.

_Perfection, really. Nothing more beautiful on this planet, or on any other._

He wondered, fleetingly, how a man who had spent his whole life on high alert in case he got assassinated or ambushed, could sleep through being groped and rutted against like this. The fact that he wasn’t waking, and he wasn’t trying to make Flynn stop, was frightening and intoxicatingly erotic. The sense of power that came from it was almost too great. Flynn had never thought about doing anything like this before, and he was terrified to realise that he _loved_ it. He knew, however, that if he paused for even a moment to think about what was happening, he might conclude that this was a gross violation of Mathias’ trust. So great that he might lose his erection over it, along with his chances of having a future with this man he thought he was falling in love with.

It was when he started to feel Mathias getting hard in his palm that he realized he had to stop. He had to stop _now_. Or rather, he had to stop about five minutes ago.

Sucking in a sharp breath, he pulled his hand away. The cold air whooshed into his sleeping bag, and in his arms Mathias made a noise almost like a whine of frustration.

“Flynn?” That sleepy voice again, barely coherent. “No… come back…”

His hands flopped around to seek Flynn’s arm, and before Flynn could protest he was dragging it back around himself, and pushing his body back against Flynn’s chest. It was a miracle he couldn’t feel Flynn’s heart pounding through it.

“Mat,” He whispered, throat dry. “You’re awake?”

No reply for a moment, and then.

“Barely.” He rustled his sleeping bag, then took Flynn’s hand softly into his own. “Keep going though.”

He guided Flynn’s hand back, between his thighs. When the hand made contact with his nascent cock, he sighed, and Flynn felt his face burning. Hotter than fire.

“Are you sure?” He asked. Mathias nodded.

“Mm.”

“Are you going to stay awake?”

Mathias was already unconscious again.

Flynn thought again that maybe he should just stop. But at the same time, here he was, inches away from the man of his dreams and holding a semi-hard dick in his hand. He did the only thing he could think of to do, and began to stroke it.

Mathias groaned, breaching the surface of unconsciousness for just a moment, before dipping back down under and coasting there in the place between wakefulness and rest. Flynn sucked softly on his ear, using the precum beginning to bead on the tip of his length to move his hand easier. He touched him in the tight confides of the sleeping bag, and allowed himself to be hypnotized by the tiny sounds of Mathias’ pleasure. Whether or not he was awake didn’t matter - all that mattered was that he was enjoying it, and Flynn was enjoying it too. He didn’t feel quite as guilty about pushing his hips up against the curve of the other mans ass, now. The sleeping bags between them were less than ideal, but Flynn found them easy enough to ignore. He wondered if later, when they were back sleeping somewhere less precarious, he might be allowed to do something like this again. Somewhere where they could be wrapped in fluffy blankets, and Flynn could use more than his hands to rouse Mathias’ sleeping form. The thought jazzed him somewhat, sending a prickling of pleasure to the tips of his fingers and toes, and the low keening sound he made was muffled by the warm flesh of Mathias’ neck.

It didn’t need to be muffled, he suddenly realised. Out here, they could make as much noise as they wanted – there was no one around for miles and miles. Flynn thought that he might ask Mathias if they could camp again tomorrow, actually. He hadn’t yet had the chance to hear Mathias’s voice in all its glory. Not that it didn’t sound great now, of course, making those sweet little sounds.

 _Tides,_ thinking of how he might sound when there was no one there to hear them was tapping into something Flynn hadn’t even known existed. He let his head tip back, and maybe he would have been more embarrassed about how close he was from just rutting on him like a horny youth, but by now he was too far gone to care or notice. The friction on his length felt so good, and Mathias fit perfectly in the warm palm of his hand, and Flynn was almost at his climax when finally, _finally_ , Mathias was waking properly. Still dozy, the small body against his squirmed, twisting around to face him and coiling his arms needily around Flynn’s neck. He was lost in the darkness, and for a moment Flynn couldn’t find his lips, but then he felt the brush of a moustache on his cheek and he was being pulled into a deep, greedy kiss.

“Insatiable,” Mathias mumbled against Flynn’s mouth, his voice low and thick with sleep. “Finish for me please, so I can go back to sleep.”

Flynn wasn’t going to argue. He crushed Mathias against himself, rocking into his release, and a loud groan of relief tore from his lips. Mathias gasped, startled by the power in his grip, and pressed a leg firmly between Flynn’s thighs to brace him while he came undone.

Flynn didn’t notice for a bit, too busy trying to catch his breath as the last of his climax left him, that he had finished inside his underwear _and_ his sleeping bag, and the whole debacle had created a terrible mess. Mathias held him close and stroked his hair, not saying anything about his own erection that now pressed untended between them. When Flynn began to come down again, sinking under a heavy blanket of calm, he began to register the wet spot that stuck his underwear to his crotch and legs.

“ _Shit,_ ” he murmured, shifting uncomfortably and making the sleeping bag rustle. Mathias made a sound almost like a laugh, and eased his embrace so Flynn could move back and sort out what he wanted to do with himself now.

“Made a mess?” He asked, and Flynn could feel his face burning in embarrassment. He was _very_ glad that Mathias couldn’t see how pink he was.

“In the sleeping bag, yeah.”

His company was silent for a moment, as though he was thinking carefully about how to deal with the situation. Flynn had a suspicion about what he would suggest, and he was already thinking about snakes and jaguars and other dangerous jungle things that lurked in the dark, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t say it.

No such luck. 

“If you clean up quickly, I can let you share mine. There’s water in the pack but we can’t get it in the tent… I’m afraid you’re going to have to go outside.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I crave the sweet relief of November's embrace.
> 
> Pls no judge if i made any mistakes i am running on nothing but hubris rn


	6. Genn/Anduin - Prasie Kink/Worship - Blessed art thou amongst Machines of Flesh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DAY SIX: Praise Kink/Worship  
> PAIRING: Genn Greymane/Anduin Wrynn  
> TAGS: Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Subspace, Anal Sex, Age Difference, Religion, Worship, Spiritual revelation through ritual intercourse, this is sacrilegious by all accounts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the mechanical parts of this story were inspired by a conversation I was having with Limejelly and Felrott the other day, about the virtue of this ship.  
> Thank u both for sparing a moment of your day to hear the good news!
> 
> The less good news is that this was the story i didnt have pre-written, so its notably shitter than a lot of the others. Oh well. 
> 
> ***TRIGGER WARNING: I'd recommend not reading this one if explicit religious themes are triggering to you.***

After darkness falls like a spell over the keep, and the last footfalls of guards and officials retiring to bed fade to silence, there is a certain compulsion which draws heavy hearts out of their chambers and into the open, hollow spaces between the walls.

This is how Genn has made it here, to a library he doesn’t often frequent, wandering along aisles of dusty tomes on creaking shelves. The extent of the library in Stormwind keep made him feel burdened by the breadth of knowledge and experience he still had not gained, even at his age, and he tried not to think about it as he sought his goal. Anduin, as always, was at his books late at night. The official duties of the crown had pulled him from one of his oldest passions far too often, and now he stole moments after the world was sleeping to pursue the comfort and security of his youth. Genn almost felt guilty for disturbing him.

“Anduin,”

He did not address him by title – they were alone, and It was too late to be bothered with formalities now. The young king startled, snapping his face up from the book and taking a posture of defensiveness. A child caught with his hand in a candy jar?

“Oh! Genn.” His surprise shifted into a demure smile, and his body visibly relaxed. “Fancy seeing you about this hour.”

“It’s been a long day,” Genn told him honestly. “I was hoping I could borrow you for something. If you don’t mind.”

“Borrow me?”

Anduin looked confused for a moment, a crease forming between his brows. Genn grit his teeth and clenched his fists in the pockets of his overcoat.

“Please.”

“ _Oh._ ”

The realization dawned. Genn watched his eyebrows raise, as he tilted his head in an unspoken question. Genn sighed.

“Can’t sleep again,” He said. A short answer, but judging by the tiny shift in the expression on Anduin’s face, it was an acceptable one.

“Very well,”

He closed the tome on the table in front of him, and pushed his chair back. The subject of his research this evening was incomprehensible to Genn – the cover of the closed book bore sigils and text in a language he did not know. It looked magical though. Occult. “Did you want to do it here? Or shall we go upstairs.”

“Either.”

Anduin chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully, eyes raking Genn up and down. They lingered for a moment on his rumpled hair, noting that he was wearing only a simple shirt and trousers under his coat, and under his penetrating stare Genn almost felt self-conscious. Anduin, unlike him, was young and beautiful. He moved with the effortless elegance of youth. His face was unlined, radiantly beautiful, but despite all of this he was wise beyond years. Wiser than Genn, sometimes, when it came to particular things.

“Not here,” He decided, after a moment’s reflection. “It’s been a while and maybe it would be good to not rush it this time.”

Gen nodded. That was a good idea.

Anduin stood and slipped past him, beckoning him to follow as he made his way down lanes of books towards the exit. He moved faster clothed in linen and furs than he did in his cold, heavy armor, and even at the worst of times he was swift on his feet. Like the dutiful puppy he was, Genn trailed in his wake.

Rather than take him to his bedchamber, though, Anduin led him across the Keep towards the war room, and through one of the heavy oak doors on the back wall. Genn had been in here a few times before - It was a small waiting chamber that was now a storage room, filled with tapestries and spare weaponry and stacks of maps. Its only remarkable feature was that it had a view of Old Town through an expansive recessed window.

“Lock the door behind you,” Anduin asked him. Genn did as he was told. The heavy iron lock clinked as he turned it, and the darkness would have been complete if not for the moonlight spilling into the room and illuminating silver pools on the floor. Genn watched in silence as Anduin slipped his cloak off his shoulders, and placed it carefully over a box of surveillance equipment stored in the corner. He settled in the window seat, and arranged himself as comfortably as he could with only a single dusty cushion at his back. Once this was done, he gestured to Genn to remove his coat.

“Put it with mine,” He said gently. “It’s better if we don’t disrupt anything”

Probably true. Spymaster Shaw would burst something if he came to retrieve a spyglass or spare claymore, and found they had been damaged when Genn threw his stuff around too recklessly. He removed his coat, placed it where he had been instructed to, and moved to stand before the young man sitting in front of him. Even in the shadowy blue light of the Lady and Child, Anduin was a vision to behold – his hair glowed silver and his eyes sparkled, and the faintest ghost of a smile teased the corners of his lips.

“Sit down then,” He said, his tone inviting.

Genn dropped to his knees, shuffling close enough that Anduin could run his hands gently through his hair. The touch was soothing, a swiftthistle salve after a day in the roasting sun. Genn felt his soul itself pull towards him, like the tides pull towards celestial bodies far above. He closed his eyes.

Genn did not consider himself a particularly religious man. Although he had borne witness to the power of the light many times over, there was always a part of him which remained… resistant to its influence. He sometimes wondered if it was a symptom of the Curse, or simply something wrong with his blood, but whatever the root cause he found that the healing touch of a priest often didn’t take on him as well as others, and the silent vigil of soldiers in prayer always left him cold and devoid of emotion. How it was that Anduin Wrynn alone could stir him was a mystery – one of those great questions that would remain eternally unanswered. So long as their private sacrament worked, however, Genn wasn’t about to look too far into it. After a lifetime of troubles and grief and combat? Genn had many scars he would like whisked away. Many nights ahead of him where all he wanted was thoughtless sleep. Anduin could and would help with that, and right now that was all that mattered.

Anduin’s hand skimmed his cheek, brushing along neat sideburns and eventually coming to rest beneath his chin. Even with his eyes closed, Genn could see his expression, his eyes bright and piercing and illuminated with the glow of the light, and he knew the young man bit his lip in repressed satisfaction. Excitement. Pride. Did he feel guilty about wielding his power like this? Maybe. Only as much guilt as Genn felt accepting his gift. It was a forbidden and beautiful thing, one that seemed so precious that it shouldn’t be for him, and maybe he was selfish or maybe he was just plain blessed. He supposed he would find out when his bones lay in his grave.

“Have I ever told you how handsome you are?”

Genn felt his face colour at the compliment. When he was younger, Genn had been handsome, but now? He was not so sure. He kept his eyes closed, and tried not to shy away from the fingertips tracing his bottom lip.

“Hardly,”

“Maybe I should tell you more often.”

A pang of sorrow. He felt the longing for a past that never happened, and a potential that could never really be. What would it have been like if Genn had had him when he was younger? Would they have hunted together in misty Gilnean mountains, side by side and wild as they created history? Would Genn have loved him then as he did now? More questions. _Always_ questions. More answers he would never know.

“When I was your age, I was as beautiful as you.”

“You are beautiful now.”

Genn flushed harder. The fingers against his mouth twitched, and it occurred to him what was being asked of him. He took the hand in his own, and pressed the back against his lips. Anduin’s skin was smooth and sweet smelling. He twisted his hand over to bare his palm, and Genn kissed that too. He felt himself drawn to the warmth of his wrist, to the life Genn could smell flowing through his veins. Unlike the blood of other men, Anduin’s blood was sparkling and precious, and cut with the essence of the holy. Genn’s kisses became deeper. Hungrier. He sought the taste of redemption coursing through him.

“That tickles,” Anduin laughed quietly, pulling his hand away. The loss made Genn’s heart lurch, and his grip on his fingers tightened in desperation.

“No,” He said, before he could stop himself and his voice had dropped low, become wolfish thanks to the urgent thrumming of his heart. “please don’t.”

“Don’t what? Neediness isn’t very virtuous you know.”

Genn knew. He winced as Anduin pried his fingers off his wrist, and retracted his hands.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok. You can try again.”

Genn let his eyes crack open, looking up at the youth sat before him, who was occupied by loosing his hair from the cord he used to bind it off his face. A soft blond cascade fell onto his collar, glowing white in the reflected moonlight, and his features were cast in shadows but still radiating splendor as he dropped the cord and moved his hand back to hover in front of Genn’s nose.

“Here. Try not to lose yourself this time.”

Genn drew a deep breath, and tried again.

Kissing him was like tasting water for the first time. It was hard to not succumb to the dizziness of it. The intoxication. Genn knew temptation existed so he can make the choice to resist it. Anduin existed so he could resist _him_. His touch was equal parts sacred and corrupting, and the light could see and know and heal all. Surely, there had to be a _reason._ A reason for this maddening compulsion. Genn felt theodicy his heart, beating for him, and he could not bear the thought that this craving was any less than a sacrament beyond his comprehension.

It had to be.

Why else would Anduin make him feel this way?

The ache was all the more burdensome when one of his fingers slipped between Genn’s lips, and pressed against his teeth.

“Suck,” he murmured, bringing his other hand up to trace the shape of the holy light on Genn’s forehead. “Be gentle.”

_No teeth._

Not always an easy request to satisfy. Especially when Genn could feel the curse riling in him, his pulse at a feverish rate. The fingers on his tongue were delicate and tasted like sweet cream. Anduin sighed softly, pleasure or contentment or perhaps just amusement, it was hard to say. Genn ached to please him more. To turn soft sighs into silky moans. To offer him all he had, in exchange for salvation. 

“So much better, Genn.”

It had taken all his temperance to resist the urge to devour him, but ultimately it was worth it to hear his praise. Anduin’s other hand pressed harder against his forehead in reward, and the touch begang to radiate a familiar, pulsing warmth. It seemed to delve through the wall of his skull, deep into his mind, and sought the heavy knots of thought that kept him from sleep. The relief was spine melting. Ecstatic.

“Do you care to please me further?”

Genn hummed consent around the fingers pressed against his tongue, and then they were gone and the only thing grounding him was the flow of light passing through the point between his eyes. Anduin’s clothing rustled as he undid the laces of his pants and opened his legs.

“Same as always,” He exhaled, guiding Genn’s face to the altar between his thighs. Genn’s hands moved to hold his legs apart, and he bowed to nose the side of his manhood. He received a small sound of approval, when his breath ghosted the burgeoning cock against his mouth.

“It tickles,” Anduin whispered again, but this time he pulled him closer, rather than pushing him away. When Genn took his length between his lips, he finally relinquished the little moan of pleasure Genn had sought so desperately. He sucked him to full hardness, yearning to sink further into him and lose himself completely.

What a perfect place to worship. A perfect place for an idle mouth, prone to speak praises to idol gods, to seek benediction from all his sins.

Anduin’s hands griped his hair, still letting that energy flow into him like a stream from a font of life. The tension was divine, holding him in place at the brink of chastity and ruination, ensuring he gave and did not take. His own cock was rigid, aching to be touched, but the sensation of the holy light flooding him was greater than any stimulation bestowed by his own hand. He refrained.

“You’re so good, Genn.”

Anduin’s thighs beneath his hands tensed, his hips rolling upwards enough that Genn nearly choked on him, but he was far too invested in the sound of his approval to notice or even care. His kind words had echoed inside Genn’s head, tempting him with the promise of more to come, and the ache to serve him with all he had welled inside his heart like a tidal wave forming in deep water. The taste of him was beautiful, and his beauty inspired a longing akin to lust, and the lust for him blurred into utmost devotion as Anduin sighed and guided his mouth up and down the length of his cock.

“Are you hard?”

Anduin’s voice was raspy, he was struggling to maintain his usual dulcet tongue. The tip of his toe slid against Genn’s thigh, across his lap and delving between his legs to press against his length. The contact was delectable, an agonizing temptation, and Genn could feel every scrap of his chastity being tested under the strain of stimulation. The tenderness of it. The rapture. Anduin’s grip on his hair tightened, a sound of delight slipping from his lips, and he increased the pressure of his foot just enough to make it _maddening._

“So big,” He said shakily. “Is that for me?”

Of course, they both knew it was. He pulled Genn off him, the grip in his hair moving to his face, and before Genn even had a chance to snatch a breath Anduin was leaning down and pressing their lips together. He kissed feverishly. Intensely. His grasp on Genn’s jaw bordered on painful, and for a single moment Genn saw a flash of something _terrible_ inside him, that gaped like the maw of the void and consumed everything like a black hole consumed planets and stars. Genn winced, almost pulling away, but as soon as he had seen it, it was gone again. The blink of an omniscient eye.

“Any more to give, Genn?”

Anduin parted from him, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand, and the moonlight was dancing on the planes of his skin, glowing like mist, brighter than snow at dawn. Genn always forgot, when he wasn’t seeing it, how other-worldly he was. How surreal. How his body wrought of light seemed to echo the burning love of the cosmos, and beckoned like a mirage across an endless skyline.

“Of course,”

Anduin’s eyes fluttered, and fleetingly the angelic young man surrendered to the ghost of a vulnerable child. A child with a soft heart but a willful gaze. A force of nature, without a doubt, but a force of nature that still sometimes was afraid. The power in his touch, or his effect on the profane, and the things he could see inside the minds that were not his own… It was a lot for a person to deal with even under the best circumstance. His façade faltered for longer than Genn had ever seen before but even so, it was up again instantly. Composure. Elegance. Grace.

_Light._

He pushed Genn gently aside and rose to his feet. The box of first aid provisions in the corner was filled with bottles of basic oils and salves. Bottle in hand, he returned and crouched down so they were eye level, sitting on the cold stone floor.

“Lie down,” He said simply. It took Genn a moment to process what he said. Long enough that he needed to repeat himself.

“Be good for me, and lie down.”

He did as he was told. Anduin stood again and stripped off his pants, before dropping down again to straddle Genn’s thighs.

They had done this before, but only one time. Not in this chamber either. Genn had come to him in Anduin’s own room, in agonies over something he couldn’t even remember, and Anduin had taken his offering and healed his heart and given him peace for months and months on end. Genn had never known rest like the rest that met him in the aftermath of these collisions. He had never known life as vibrant as the life that was couched in atonement and unfaltering service, to a man he loved more than he loved his own life.

“You’re so lovely,” Anduin leaned close, to speak into his ear. His weight pressed down, sandwiching Genn against the cold, hard floor. The words of praise dripped like liquid gold, igniting all the nerves in Genn’s body, making him tingle. Anduin’s hands moved down between their bodies to undo the front of Genn’s pants. He handled him with confidence as he handled his length, stroking him in steady, smooth motions, and what _bliss_ it was to be touched by him like this. Genn’s groan caught in his throat.

“It’s bigger than I remembered,”

When he poured the oil over Genn’s erection, the sensation of his touch seemed amplified tenfold. Genn had to refrain from thrusting towards his palm when he moved it away. Anduin secreted his fingers between his own legs to ease his body open, his spare hand resting over Genn’s heart, and he did it so effortlessly that Genn knew he had done it a hundred times before. He curled his fingers against the ground, trying not to succumb to the urges welling inside him. The primal, carnal desires that made him a man, like any other, and more than that a beast, deep down inside.

Anduin had to know how badly he craved him. How badly Genn hungered to roll him over and take him roughly, like noone had ever dared to take a saint before. His chastity was all he had left now he was under him, his dignity and his power was long gone. Genn forced himself to remain still as Anduin pared him back and held him down, cleaving into his soul with that perfectly honed mind to seek his virtue and whisper.

_Restrain yourself for me, and I will show you the most magnificent things._

It was hard to imagine anything more magnificent than this, though. Anduin moved his hand away, seizing Genn’s length again and shifting his body over it. When he sunk down, taking Genn into himself slow and deep, it felt like the world was ending then starting over between the seconds passing by. The hand he was using to stabilize himself pulsed with light, and Genn could feel it searing on his skin even through his clothes. The contact sunk deep into his chest, spreading through his core like blood through water. The energy cycling between them ebbed and flowed as Anduin settled, adjusting to the hardness jutting into him, his own pretty cock beginning to dribble precum over his head.

Genn bit down hard on the inside of his cheek and closed his eyes. He couldn’t watch this – the visual stimulation would be too much. He tried with all his will to block out the memories of when he had thought of these communions to please himself. Such acts were shameful. Unforgivable. A misuse of a blessing that he could not justify to himself, let alone to Anduin Wrynn. He hoped he wouldn’t notice, and he hoped that this time in the aftermath he would have the fortitude to keep this moment for only hallowed contemplation.

Anduin exhaled shakily, and raised himself up a little on Genn’s cock. Satisfied by the ease of motion, he dropped back down, and a low groan escaped him. After a few more instances of this, he began to increase his pace, finding a rhythm and angling his body as best he could to use Genn for his own satisfaction. The sounds he made were unashamed, loud and reverent, as though he was a mirror for all of the reverence Genn was directing at him.

“It feels so good, Genn…”

The current of energy passing into him was reaching a crescendo. Anduin’s thighs, clasping his hips, became crushing. With every rock of his body his breathing became more ragged, and the drip of hot precum from the tip of his cock became faster. Thicker. Pooling in Genn’s navel and overflowing like a chalice of the finest wine. Genn cracked open his eyes to behold him, a dazzling, tremendous, luminous thing, his skin burning with the fire of the sun and his hair a halo of glory around a flushed, brilliant face. The way his eyes tipped back in bliss made Genn feel like his body was cracking open, his meat bared for consumption by angels, who bit into him with teeth honed on gold.

Anduin was a supernova. An event horizon. Genn thought that he might have stopped breathing, that his psyche had begun to unravel itself under him, as he was drawn in past that point of no return and hurtled into the inevitable place where he was going to cum and Anduin was telling him he _couldn’t._ He _won’t._ He had to be _good_ for him because he needed to finish, and that was the reason they were here, after all.

Anduin shuddered as he met his climax, and Genn could feel every contraction that ravaged him, every resonating note of his moan echoing in the caverns in his soul. Cum spilled over Genn’s belly as Anduin bowed forward, hips stilling, and Genn could feel the wetness soaking through the linen of his shirt. His own cock was pounding, aching on the cusp of release. But the command to abstain was still echoing deep inside him, and the sensation of withheld orgasm was beginning to drown out everything in a rush of chemical pleasure in his brain. It was transcendent.

“ _Fuck…”_

Anduin’s breathing was ragged. It was a sigh and a word both at once. His arms were trembling as he pushed himself up, sweeping his hair back off his face before bracing himself against Genn’s abdomen and stumbling awkwardly to his feet. The loss of his body barely even registered - Genn let himself remain prone, focusing on the heat in his stomach, the soft glimmer of sensation in every inch of him, the way his breath filled him with an expansive, infinite feeling like being adrift in a boundless sea.

Let him be slain here, an empty vessel for no mere human, against a cold stone floor.

Anduin, towering above him, presented him a hand that had its source in the very heart of the cosmos. Genn took it, and found himself raised from the dead - an offering of flesh wholly accepted, and repaid in boundless love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blessed are the pure in heart,  
> for they will see God.  
> Mat. 5.8


	7. Flynn/Mathias - Size Kink - His body is a universe, and the universe is small

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DAY SEVEN: Size Kink  
> PAIRING: Flynn Fairwind/Mathias Shaw  
> TAGS: Slight Age Difference, Size Kink, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Small Penis Insecurity, Flynn is THICC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt I chose to fill today was ‘size kink’, but no one specified what size was being kinked here and I’ve never been great at semantics.
> 
> ALso its high key hilarious that this fic is almost 7k words long and happens to be about size kink lol

Trepidation was an unfamiliar emotion, and as such it took Mathias Shaw longer than It should have for him to notice that something was wrong.

Things with Flynn had been going well – better than he could have expected – and there was certainly no reason that he should have been so restless under these circumstances. They went out for dinner two nights a week, and spent whole days together if Flynn was in Stormwind and Mathias had time off work. The activities they engaged in varied widely – from outdoor theatre when Mathias was choosing activities, to cards at the Blue Recluse when that responsibility fell on Flynn. More than once they had simply walked or ridden together, along the dappled green roads of Elwynn Forest or the cobbled lanes that ran alongside the city canals. Sometimes, in the evenings, Mathias would show him some of the secret paths down dark alleys and across rooftops, cut in pink and orange at the skyline. He might even crack a smile when Flynn complained that he couldn’t keep up. Mathias was smaller than he was, and light on his feet. Flynn was built thickly, and had a sturdy step. Good for standing upright on a boat tossed by the waves at sea. Not so good for leaping between buttresses, or scaling rough stone walls.

Yes, Mathias was having a very nice time. Flynn’s boisterous nature pulled his own formal demeanor into equilibrium. Lately, even when he wasn’t around, Mathias sometimes caught himself humming a familiar song when he did his paperwork. Taking the long route home from work in the evening so he could find some new scenery to appreciate. Lying in bed and wishing Flynn was with him, so he could divulge the pointless minutiae of his days.

He wondered if Flynn lay awake, thinking of him too.

Of course, that was a dangerous train of thought to follow. As time passed, however, he couldn’t avoid it in the way he used to, and it was even beginning to come up during his waking hours too. Sometimes when they were at dinner, Flynn would take his hair down for a moment to adjust the cord of leather he used to tie it. Sometimes when they were walking, Flynn would let their shoulders press together. Sometimes, when Flynn kissed him goodnight, he would linger for a moment longer than usual, his hands edging from their spot at the side of Mathias waist to the small of his back, and Mathias would be breathless and pink in the face when he pulled away. The sense of loss that filled him when Flynn left again seemed deeper and deeper every time it happened. There had been times he had been so close to asking him. So close to grabbing his arm when he stepped away.

_Did you want to come in for a while?_

But the words always died at the tip of his tongue.

Mathias finally had the revelation one afternoon, while doing the dishes. He had been scrubbing a plate, hands submerged in suds up to his wrists, and when he brought one out to reach for the glass still sitting on the bench he had neglected to let go of the plate and accidently flung it across the room and into a wall. Where had his mind been?

Thinking about all the ways it could go wrong of course. The first time he and Flynn had sex. He realized, as he stood there looking at the shattered plate, dripping hand still hovering frozen in the air, that he was nervous. Excruciatingly nervous. It had been consuming his days for at least three weeks now, hovering over him like a dark cloud on the horizon, and he had become so used to it that it had become second nature to just ignore. The way things were going, that particular kind of contact would soon be unavoidable, and even if it wasn’t Mathias didn’t think he wanted to avoid it. More than anything, Mathias was nervous because the last time he had fucked anyone, Tiffin Wrynn had still been alive, and Flynn was probably just a grubby faced child pinching coins from strangers in Boralus. He didn’t want to count the years, exactly, but he knew it was enough to be an _embarrassingly_ long time, and he was so out of practice he wasn’t sure if he should think about stocking up on stamina flasks or not.

General performance anxiety aside, there was also a list of physical things that had the potential to go wrong. Mathias just wasn’t as supple as he used to be, for example, and even at a generous estimate he was probably only half the size that Flynn was. The Captain could probably crush him with one arm, if the fancy took him, and as terrifying as the prospect was, he couldn’t help but wonder what that might be like. To be squished against a broad chest, held there unable to move by strong arms, while Flynn’s hefty thigh pressed between his legs so his hips were flush against-

_Stop that!_

Mathias flushed, eyes closing for a moment to block out the world around him. Far away, he could hear the sound of the street outside, carrying up to his apartment and through the open window. The noises of people, of lively voices and busy streets, reminded him of Flynn.

Ok. Closed eyes weren’t helping.

He picked up the pieces of the shattered plate, and resolved to talk to Flynn about the issue when he saw him next. Mathias had been reared to believe that the best way to deal with fear was to not have it, and unlike many of his other fears this was not something that could be negated through subtlety. There was no dagger sharp enough, or a garrote tight enough, to get him out of this one. 

It was definitely more appropriate to take a page out of Flynn’s book in this case, and come at it bluntly. Which he did, the next time they were getting dinner at the Golden Keg.

It was another symptom of nerves, that he would ask just as Flynn had taken a mouthful of ale.

“Sorry, Mat. I swear I didn’t mean to.” Flynn was obviously flustered, trying to daub up the ale that he had coughed all over the table and their dinners. “It’s just for a moment there, I thought you were asking when I could come over to yours and fuck you.”

“I did,” Mathias told him calmly, even though his insides didn’t feel calm at all. “It occurred to me the other day that we’ve been seeing each other regularly for some time now, and yet neither of us has thought to bring it up.”

“Speak for yourself,” Flynn had gone from speaking in his usual booming voice to whispering, and his posture, formerly been relaxed and affable, had shifted so he was hunched across the table between them. “The whole situation has been rattling around in _my_ brain for a few months now.”

“Oh. Well why didn’t you say anything?” Mathias was put out to hear this. If Flynn had just mentioned something earlier, then he wouldn’t have to be the one initiating this awkward conversation in a very public place, and he would still possess his favourite plate.

Flynn groaned quietly and rub a hand across the top half of his face.

“It’s a long story, love,” He told him, and Mathias noted that he was intentionally avoiding any kind of eye contact. “I’d rather not talk about it here if that’s okay?”

Mathias was not feeling particularly reassured by how the conversation was going. He hadn’t been sure what to expect, when he started it, but he knew he had expected some reaction other than that.

He frowned, staring hard at Flynn and tapping the prongs of his fork against his plate. Flynn’s gaze darted to his fork, then up to his face, but snatched away again before Mathias could get a proper look in. What was he thinking? What weird machinations were going on in there, behind those sea blue eyes?

“Fair enough, Captain.”

Mathias set his fork down, and reached for his wine.

Flynn avoided talking about it for another two weeks, always scrambling to fill in the silence between them with chatter that Mathias began to find grating after a while. Whenever he tried to direct the conversation, whenever he even came _close_ to reminding him of the talk they were supposed to have at some point in time, Flynn would take it upon himself to change the subject again. He bound down the passages of conversation hitherto unknown and perpetually uncared about, and as time passed Mathias lost the desire to sing anymore to himself while he was alone in his office. He took the shortest route home every evening. And his entire countenance started to become heavy and dour.

Ironically, it was Flynn who asked him whether or not something was wrong.

“Why would anything be wrong?” Mathias told him, as they sat on a bench in the Mage Quarter one morning. Flynn had just arrived back in Stormwind, and Mathias had taken a major detour on his way to SI:7 headquarters. It was never his favourite way for them to meet, but it alleviated the longer waiting periods when Flynn was at sea for more than three days. 

“Dunno, love.” Flynn gave him a tentative smile, and reached for the side of Mathias’ face. “You just look gloomier than usual is all.”

The comment made something in him snap. When Flynn leaned in to plant a kiss on his forehead, he jerked his face away.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He snarled.

Flynn looked at him as though he had just spat poison in his eye.

“… What do you _mean ‘_ what's that supposed to mean’? I just noticed you aren’t as happy to see me lately and I wanted to know why.”

His brow creased in hurt, and Mathias only felt a little bit bad about it.

“Why do you care if I’m happy to see you or not, Flynn? Is it less enjoyable for you to dance around someone who isn’t giving you their undivided attention?”

“Undivided… what? Mat, what are you _talking_ about?”

Surely, Flynn wasn’t that dumb.

“Sex, Flynn! I’m talking about Sex! You said we could talk about it sometime, and yet here we are! It’s been almost three weeks and you haven’t let me bring it up _once_.”

Flynn blinked, only half registering what Mathias was saying to him - unlike the mage standing outside the wandshop, who was looking at them as though he had heard and absorbed every word.

“Sex?” He repeated stupidly, and Mathias could see colour rising in his cheeks. “You’re mad at me because I won’t talk about sex?”

“Talk about it. Have it. I don’t care! I just need to have this conversation with you so I can get on with my life.”

He had broken a glass and two pens and a doorstop since the confrontation at the Golden Keg. Mathias didn’t like this ‘being distracted’ business much at all.

Flynn, sitting with his shoulders slumped and an expression of extreme discomfort smeared all over his pretty face, heaved a mighty sigh from the bellows of his chest.

“It’s really bothering you that much?” he asked. Mathias nodded.

“Of course it is.”

He had become genuinely convinced that the reason Flynn had been avoiding the subject was because he plain old did not want to have sex with him. This knowledge, surely, hurt his feelings. After all, he would have _hoped_ that if Flynn was going to be romantically invested in him, he would want to be sexually invested as well. Mathias knew Flynn was not asexual – he had met people who could attest to that fact – and if he was Mathias thought he would be able to take the whole situation much better. He had no qualms with keeping their relationship on the emotional level, provided Flynn would just outright tell him that was what he wanted. Failing that, however, Flynn was flirtatious at best and downright lecherous at worst - Mathias had no problem believing that Flynn’s list of conquests was as long as his was short. So why was it that after so much time, Flynn had not expressed interest in _him_?

Maybe he was just too old after all. Maybe he was too small to be a real conquest. Maybe Flynn was afraid he would break him – his build could hardly compete with that of a Kul Tiran, man or woman. Mathias had never thought of himself as fragile or decrepit before, yet in that moment he was convinced he was both of these things.

Flynn sighed again, and pushed his hands through his hair in agitation. It rumpled his ponytail, and Mathias caught a flutter of his scent. It was familiar and warm, and distressingly sexy. Mathias would have gladly smelled anything else.

“You really pick the worst times to talk about these things,” Flynn told him, and this time Mathias was able to bite his tongue even though he wanted to tell him that he would have talked about it _any time_ over the last three weeks if only Flynn had given him the chance to get a word in edgeways.

“When is a good time then,” He asked. Flynn squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, pressing the heels of his palms against his browbone. This gesture must have helped – after a few seconds he dropped his hands and pulled himself upright again.

“I don’t know Mat. How about this evening? I can come over and we can talk about it where there’s not likely to be anyone else to hear?”

And naturally, with this on the horizon, Mathias was filled with dread the whole day. He could barely focus on anything, and on a few occasions had managed to incorrectly encrypt some of his correspondence. The nature of secret messages, of course, meant than every time it happened, he had to start writing it out all over again.

He didn’t even find relief when he returned home, and he discovered that Flynn was already waiting there against his doorjamb, decked out in his coat and carrying a large bottle of whiskey.

“Something to loosen the tongue,” He said, without Mathias even needing to ask.

They went inside, and Mathias set about procuring a pair of glasses for them to drink from. Flynn was standing in the middle of his apartment, eyes raking over the neat surfaces and minimal décor, when he turned around.

“Nice place, Mat.” His voice sounded strange, contained in the familiar walls of his house. Mathias begrudgingly supposed it did look nice, in the late evenings – the leaded windows in the kitchen area caught the sunset behind the Keep, and the peachy light that spilled in brought out the richness in the woodwork. Flynn looked somewhat out of place in the small space – his clothes were too rustic and he was much too tall. Not tall enough that his head brushed the ceiling, but definitely tall enough to make Mathias feel small in comparison.

He swallowed, and set the empty glasses down on the kitchen table.

“You can sit down,” He said.

Flynn did so.

Mathias watched in silence as he poured them both a helping of liquor, and he noticed him emptying at least twice as much into his own glass.

“So.” Flynn said, setting the bottle down on the table. “You wanted to talk about when you and I would… you know.”

“Have sex,” Mathias told him coolly. He had spent most of the day preparing to hear Flynn say he wasn’t interested in fucking, and even the whiskey wasn’t doing much to warm him.

“Right.”

Flynn hesitated for a moment, staring at his glass on the table but not reaching to take it yet.

“Were you thinking we should have started by now?” He asked. Mathias scowled.

“I don’t know, Flynn. I suppose if you wanted to. But at this point I think I’m more concerned that you have been so intent on avoiding the conversation. I’ve started to wonder if there’s something wrong with me. “

“Wrong with you?!” Flynn almost looked offended. “What could _possibly_ be wrong with you? You’re great, Mat. I think you’re the best.”

“So _why_ don’t you want to sleep with me?” Mathias tapped a nail against the table testily. “Why don’t you even want to _talk_ about it?”

He didn’t mean to use his work voice, the one reserved for scolding an insubordinate soldier. Flynn looked appropriately ashamed.

“Well first of all,” He mumbled, eyes looking everywhere except Mathias face. “I do want to sleep with you. Always have. And second – I haven’t wanted to talk about it because there are a few things I need to talk to you about, before we do, and I haven’t known how to raise the topic. Some of the information I have is… sensitive if you catch my drift.”

Mathias didn’t. He frowned, trying to remember if there were any notes on Flynn Fairwind’s SI:7 dossier of relevance. Notes about unpleasant afflictions or sexual conditions that could be considered compromising at all.

He couldn’t recall any.

“Sensitive how? Are you ill?”

Flynn laughed uncomfortably.

“No,” he shook his head. “Nothing like that. It’s more of a self-consciousness kind of thing. Ya see, I’d hate for us to be doing something a little more raunchy than usual only for you to reach down for a handful and be… disappointed.”

“Disappointed?” Mathias thought that given how strongly the thought of sex with Flynn had been possessing him recently, the only thing that would disappoint him was if he reached down and found nothing but a steamy romance novel. “How do you mean ‘disappointed’?”

“Ah, Well…” Flynn looked terribly embarrassed. His cheeks were almost redder than his hair. “I’ve found that people tend to have certain… expectations of me. What with being tall and wide and all. And it’s not often I shack up with someone when I’m sober. Drunk sailors tend to be a bit more indifferent about these things and I care a lot less about impressing that sort anyway. Even my old exes didn’t mind that much because Ive always been pretty decent at other services so-“

“Flynn.” Mathias cut him off. “You’re rambling.”

Flynn sucked his teeth, reaching for his glass of whiskey and downing it in one go before he spoke again.

“Sorry. I don’t know if you can tell I’m pretty nervous.”

“Is that so.” Mathias nursed his own drink, his stomach aflutter as he watched Flynn squirm. He wondered if he should feel guilty for enjoying how lovely he looked, flustered like this. Especially considering how difficult it was to bother him usually. He didn’t even mind that much that he still didn’t know what Flynn was trying to tell him.

With a sound of frustration, Flynn reached for the whiskey on the table. Mathias, with lightning reflexes, sprung his hand out to stop him.

“Not necessary,” He said, pulling the bottle out of reach. “Spit it out.”

Flynn met his eyes for the first time since Mathias had arrived at his doorstep to find him. Contained within them, a silent plea. One Mathias chose to ignore.

“ _Tell me_ ,” he insisted. “Please. I swear to you, whatever you’re embarrassed about? I don’t mind.”

He almost added the thing about the romance novel, but ultimately refrained. Flynn rolled his eyes up momentarily, as if saying a quick prayer to the Tidemother, or the light, or whatever deity he believed might be in the sky watching over him, then returned his gaze to stare directly into Mathias eyes.

“My dick is small, Mat.” He said. “Smaller than you’d think. I’ve been wanting to get in your pants for months now but haven’t been able to try it, incase you were disappointed or something.”

Thralls balls.

Was that it?

Mathias could have laughed at his face right then and there, if the context for such an act didn’t seem so thoroughly inappropriate. It took every last second of thirty years of espionage training for him to mask his response.

Flynn looked an awful lot like he wanted to keel over dead right then and there.

“I see,” Mathias raised his glass and sipped it calmly. It tasted strong, but warmed him somewhat now. “And how did you brace this topic with any of your ex-partners? Dare I ask.”

Flynn shrugged and turned away, suddenly becoming very interested in the small portrait of Mathias’ grandmother, that sat on the mantle above the empty fireplace.

“Like I said. Drunk sailors are usually too out of their gourds to notice. And you’d be surprised how many women would rather ride a face every night than –“

Mathias held up his hand to silence him. He had heard enough about the answer to that particular question. 

“Okay I get the idea.” He studied Flynn closely through narrowed eyes, taking in his wide shoulders. His sturdy bearing. His pretty face. Flynn, unlike him, was a young man still – if Mathias hadn’t known his exact age, he might have guessed he was heading towards thirty, with freckles on his nose and only the faintest creases at the corners of his eyes. Mathias thought he was right, to point out that people would expect certain qualities of him based on his general appearance and size. He hadn’t really questioned his own assumption, that Flynn would either be endowed averagely or possibly to an extensive degree. The longer Mathias looked at him, the easier it was to believe that his cock might even match the length of Mathias forearm.

Well, that might be an exaggeration, he supposed. But not much of one.

He had to admit, now he was curious. And not _half_ relieved to know that it wasn’t because of him that Flynn hadn’t wanted to talk about it. He thought that if he were in Flynn’s position, he might be hesitant too – Mathias had never been particularly concerned with the dicks of the men he might have considered attractive, but he had spent enough time around soldiers to know about the delicate nature of the male ego. It didn’t matter how handsome a man was in his face, or how gentle he might have been in his heart, it was often the case that the sense of being less endowed made him less confident and more prone to aggressive outbursts in the field. It was a popular saying among intelligence agents, that men who bore that kind of emotional insecurity made poor spies.

Flynn really hadn’t seemed like the type.

“Does it bother you?” Flynn asked.

“No,” He answered honestly. “Not at all. But I do still have a few things to say, if you don’t mind.”

Flynn nodded.

“My immediate response is naturally to doubt you.” He began, “Even though I don’t think you would have any reason to lie. I also feel as though I should tell you that I’ve only ever been fucked by one person in my whole life. Dick notwithstanding, and as long as you don’t try and commit high treason, you’re already far ahead of that guy.”

Perhaps Flynn wasn’t in the position to appreciate it, but he was not the only person divulging profoundly embarrassing and personal information tonight. Mathias continued.

“My main concern is that this might mean you expect me to…” he wasn’t sure how to put it lightly. Discretion failing him, he resorted once again to going all in. “You might expect me to penetrate you. I’m not opposed to the idea? But it’s not my natural preference so Its likely I will need some practice.”

Flynn was staring at him as though he had just grown a second head. He answered the question, even though it wasn’t really phrased as a question, anyway.

“That’s okay, love. As long as you aren’t super bothered by the situation, I can work something out.”

“You don’t want me to-“

“No thanks. I am one hundred percent alright.”

Mathias nodded.

“Alright.”

He wasn’t exactly sure where they should go from here. Judging by the way he was sitting with his fists balled on his knees, Flynn wasn’t really sure either. A silence, bordering on uncomfortable, emerged in the wake of their exchange. For the first time, Mathias realized that Flynn was here now, in his house. Flynn had never been in his house before.

He drained his glass of whiskey, seeking the guiding hand of liquid courage, and pulled himself to his feet.

“Did you want to go out for dinner,” He asked, moving to stand behind Flynn’s chair and bringing his hands to rest on the shoulders of his coat. “If you wanted to stay here I can find something to cook.”

“Uh, you can cook?”

Mathias stared down at him, not half unimpressed. “Of course I can fucking cook. I’m not Nomi, but I’m good enough.”

“Who’s Nomi? Actually, it doesn’t matter. You’ve intrigued me spymaster, let’s stay here.” He tipped his head back, searching for Mathias’ face, and even though he tried to smile in his usual cocky way Mathias could see there was vulnerability there now. Nervousness. He was looking for something.

_Reassurance?_

Mathias decided he could concede him that. He gave Flynn’s shoulders a light squeeze and leaned in to kiss him on the lips.

“I love you, Captain.”

Sacred words. Not ones he threw around as often or as easily as Flynn did. They seemed to do the trick.

Flynn stood up and knocked over the chair he was sitting on, seizing Mathias by the waist and pulling him close for a deeper kiss. It reminded him of the kisses that would come late at night, when Flynn bade him goodbye at the doorstep, and eventually he would pull away again and leave Mathias breathless and cold. Unwilling to endure that loss again, Mathias curled his fingers in the lapels of Flynn’s coat, pressing himself into his warm, broad chest, inviting him to part his lips and sink his tongue deep into Mathias’ mouth. Flynn’s fingers on his right hand scrambled to undo the buckles and ties of Mathias’ armor, his other pressed flat on the small of his back. After a moment of fumbling, Mathias decided it would just be quicker if he did it himself.

When he released Flynn from his grip, to strip off his epaulettes and untie his cuirass, Flynn shed his great coat and tossed it onto the kitchen table. It knocked over the fruit bowl sitting there, sending three oranges and a pear rolling across the floor.

“Oops,”

Mathias chucked his shoulder piece onto the table as well, where it landed with a thud.

“Don’t care,” He said shortly, already making to remove his belt. “Can I get a hand here?”

Flynn was eager to oblige. Once Mathias had been stripped of any heavy or inconvenient gear, it was his turn as well, and he was much easier to undress once his coat was off. His belt, cutlas still attached, fell on the floor, and when his shirt came off Mathias thought his heart might stop. He had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

Flynn’s chest was broad, and his waist was thick – completely unlike Mathias’ trim, sinewy frame. He had scars on his chest, thin white lines likely etched by the point of a sword, and fine dark hair the same reddish brown as the hair on his head. The muscles in his arms were just as powerful as ever, but far more daunting now they were bared, and Mathias noticed he wore tattoos – something he hadn’t thought about until now.

“Light,” He breathed, knees almost failing him. Flynn gave him a sheepish kind of grin and pulled his shoulders into a shrug.

“I’m a little out of shape, I’m afraid. Haven’t been running for my life so much of late.”

If this was out of shape, Mathias couldn’t even _imagine_ what ‘in shape’ might look like. He shook himself, and brushed his hair back off his face.

“Quite alright,” He said. “The tattoos are unexpected.”

Flynn laughed and reached for him, drawing him in and pulling his cheek against that warm, magnificent chest.

“Don’t like them?” He asked softly. Mathias shook his head.

“I like them very much, actually.”

He could have stayed here, wrapped in him like this, forever. He had never felt so guarded and secure, and it was a strange feeling that made his heart flutter and his skin tingle. Flynn pressed kisses to the crown of his head, against the top of his ears, and eventually, when he turned his face up to him again, to his eyes and his cheeks and his chin. His facial hair tickled as he captured Mathias’ lips in his, and after a while his hands began to gravitate from their spot at his waist downwards, to cup his ass.

How jarring. A strange new way to be touched. It filled him with the urge to lift his leg and try to hook it around Flynn’s hip. Probably impossible in this orientation, but...

Mathias pushed him back a little, towards his bed. He could wrap his legs around him as much as he wanted there.

Flynn had the same idea.

He swung around and brought Mathias down against the mattress in a maneuver that was more street combat than professional assassin, but Mathias supposed he shouldn’t be too surprised by this. His kisses too, were chaotic, yet it was irrefutable that Mathias had never been kissed so sweetly in his life. It was possible that this was _because_ he was so reckless, but he didn’t have time to think about it much. Flynn was pinning him to the bed and holding him there, a slight body beneath a huge one, and licking messily at the dip at the bottom of his throat.

Mathias reached to untie his hair, letting it spill in a flow of dark auburn across his skin, and Flynn’s mouth moved to press against his nipples. A broad hand drifted between his legs, groping the shape of his cock hardening through cloth. Mathias groaned at the contact – he had forgotten how it felt to be touched by something that wasn’t his own cool hand.

“Flynn…”

“Sh. Unless you need to tell me to stop you should shut your pretty face ok?”

Flynn turned his eyes up to peer at him, and Mathias could feel himself flush at being told what to do like that.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Sh.” A sweet kiss to his clavicle, the corner of Flynn’s mouth quirked as he felt Mathias’ dick twitch in his hand. “Just relax and have a nice time for once.”

He made it look so easy, the way he stripped Mathias of his trousers and cast them aside so he could spread his legs open. The sensual kisses at his collar were migrating, moving to his navel and then between his thighs, and Mathias cried out when lips pressed against his length. A soft, wet, tongue stroked around the edge of his cockhead, and those broad hands held the base so Flynn could swallow him all the way down his throat. He hollowed his cheeks as he sucked him – a sublime kind of trick that Mathias had never experienced before right now. The spreading, webbing sensation of his touch was now rooted firmly in Mathias’ core.

Mathias tied his fingers in luxurious red hair, hips tilting upwards to fuck into his mouth, his own lips parting in a low, breathy keen as Flynn pulled back, then sunk back down again. Even after waiting all this time, even the deepest most detailed fantasies he carried inside himself couldn’t come close to this. His tongue was skilful, and his throat yielded easily to swallow him to the hilt. Mathias felt needy and frantic, hardly believing this was happening.

This was really happening.

After so long.

A long, loud moan of pleasure lifted from his chest, and Flynn made a sound of satisfaction around his length. The vibrations were spine melting - Mathias knew if he didn’t stop immediately, he was going to cum.

“ _Flynn!_ ”

He tried to pull him off, but he knew he had failed before he even tried. Mathias had never had fellatio of this calibre. Edwin had always been clumsy, sorely inexperienced just as Mathias was. Flynn sucked cock like he had been doing it forever - his fingers seemed to know exactly where to caress him to make him whimper, and he didn’t gag even with the tip of his nose against Mathias’ quivering belly.

Mathias met his climax down his throat, holding Flynn’s face down and shaking under the hands that stroked the insides of his thighs. He might have been mortified about how loud he was, but the relief of his orgasm was so profound that he didn’t feel all that much beyond a blissful exhaustion. That, and a bottomless well of love for the man still laying between his legs.

Flynn moved back, removing Mathias’ softening length from his mouth with a lewd noise that _did_ stir a sliver of embarrassment, and wiped his lips on the back of his arm. He was grinning, so much was visible even behind his wrist, and Mathias felt himself flush under glittering blue eyes. He was still trying to catch his breath when a sense of guilt came over him, mingling with his shame. He had already finished, and he hadn’t so much as come _close_ to returning the favour…

“That was fast,” Flynn teased. Mathias gasped indignantly.

“I tried to make you stop!” His protests fell on deaf ears. Flynn was too busy giggling to himself, dropping his head down onto the pillows at the head of the bed and drawing Mathias against his chest like he was a waif he would pull or push around as he pleased.

“Nothing on Azeroth could’ve stopped me Mat. I hope you don’t have any plans tonight because I’m gonna do that about two hundred more times before I leave this bed tonight.”

How old did he think he was?!

“You will be lucky if you do it even once,” Mathias grumbled, letting his head tip back so Flynn could kiss his neck unimpeded. The warmth and urgency of his lips betrayed the fact that he was much hornier than he was letting on. It occurred to Mathias that he couldn’t feel anything resembling an erection pressing against his legs or hip or stomach, and that was even with Flynn coiled around him like a serpent on a tree branch. Was that because he was as he said, or was the angle just wrong? Curiously, Mathias nudged his leg closer to Flynn’s crotch. Was it possible that the slightly firm shape he could feel through his trousers was his cock, or a just line of muscle in his upper leg? Was it too late to try and redeem himself? It had to be worth a try.

“Flynn?”

“Mmm?” Flynn skated his teeth over Mathias’ adams apple, and it felt good. Very good.

“Do you mind if I…” Mathias gestured downwards, toward the approximate area of Flynn’s loins. Flynn hesitated, and his breath was a delicate caress against Mathias’ throat.

“Mind if you what?”

“Can I touch you now as well?”

There was a moment Mathias thought he would say no. His body was tense, stricken with a subtle anxiety, and the cascade of kisses had stopped so he could consider the proposal carefully.

“… Are you sure?” He asked. Mathias nodded. He had never been so sure of anything in his life.

“Of course.”

“And you _promise_ you won’t be disappointed?”

“Never.”

Flynn pressed his lips together, and Mathias could see that he didn’t believe him, but also that he had decided to take the risk anyway.

“Alright,” He said, rolling onto his back and brushing his hair off his face. “But just so you know. I’m fucking nervous.”

This was obvious.

“No need to be nervous.” Mathias soothed. 

He propped himself up on one elbow, to look down at him, and felt a lurch of excitement to regard him from above like this. He was still big, and still sexy, but much more vulnerable from this angle. Mathias wondered if in the future, Flynn would be willing to let him ride him.

After a moments deliberation, Mathias moved one hand to rest on Flynn’s stomach, just between the waist of his pants and his navel. His skin was warm, and the trail of hair snaking from his stomach and downwards was soft. Flynn inhaled shakily. Mathias felt himself stirring again, so soon after his own orgasm. That hadn’t happened since he was in his twenties.

“Tell me to stop if you want me too,” He said, “But again, I promise I’m not going to stop loving you for this.”

Flynn laughed, but it was more of a nervous cackle than a sound of amusement.

“Don’t be so sure.”

Steamy romance novel notwithstanding, there was nothing in the _world_ that could convince him not to love this idiot in front of him. Mathias wasn’t sure how to say this though – he leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips instead, and his hand inched lower, testing to see if Flynn would flinch. Mathias could feel a slight tremor in his hands as they moved up to cup Mathias’ face, but Flynn did not ask him to stop.

Mathias let his fingertips brush the waistline of his trousers. The muscle beneath his palm tensed, and when Mathias began to loosen the ties between him and his prize, Flynn made a soft sound in his mouth. Still, he did not stop him. Mathias was beginning to feel nervous now too, a lump rising in his throat, and fleetingly he wondered what he _would_ find there. How big was ‘small’ to a Kul Tiran, who was so tall he had to duck a little to get in the doorways of some buildings and who made most of the joinery in the Eastern Kingdoms creak under his weight?

The ties were free, and the path was clear. Mathias let the tip of his tongue brush against Flynn’s lip as he edged his fingers close enough to touch him.

The sound he made as Mathias curled his fingers around his length was _heavenly_. The grip on his face tightened, and the kiss became deeper and hungrier - either in pleasure or in eagerness to distract him from what he was holding. Flynn’s entire length fit in his hand, slim and slightly curved, and it was only after the delirious bliss of first contact passed that Mathias realized he had no idea what he was supposed to do.

Luckily, Flynn had already thought of that. One of his hands shifted, curling around Mathias’ to guide him, and showed him how to stroke in a way that was similar to how Mathias would pleasure himself. The angle was different, though, and the pace he favored was different, and Flynn squeezed his hand so his grip was a little tighter than it was naturally. Flynn’s tongue pressed against his, his hips rolling forward into Mathias’ hand, and it felt like fire in his blood to know that this was how Flynn touched himself when he was alone.

His own cock was hard again, throbbing softly and jutting between them, and this fact did not escape Flynn. He redirected his hand to tease, cajoling sticky beads of precum from his tip, and the movements of his fist mirrored the way Mathias’ fist was working. It was by far the most intimate moment of Mathias’ life. The body he was holding felt like it was made for him, like it was designed to fit inside his own and bind them together forever. Flynn’s breath was catching, his kisses growing wetter and more insistent, and it was ironic how he had teased Mathias for finishing so soon when he was already like this. Already seconds away from finishing over the back of Mathias’s hand.

He came with a muffled cry, teeth sinking into Mathias’ bottom lip, and the heat of his release between their stomachs was dizzying. Almost surreal. His ragged breathing filled the silence of the aftermath, and his hand still holding Mathias’ cock had stilled. The sensation, however, lingered. Even as he pulled away from their kiss and pressed their noses together.

“Still like me?” He whispered, his voice husky, but vulnerable. 

What kind of question was that?

“More than anything,” Mathias told him. “I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ive written seven of these things in a week so its fair to say I have stopped taking them seriously.   
> Xoxo your friend Garf

**Author's Note:**

> FULLSTOP  
> KINKTOBER OVER  
> GOODBYE AND THANK U ALL


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